


i bite ( you bleed )

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Sexual Situations, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Possible Character Death, Underage Kissing, Unrequited Love, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Rafinha was just as normal as everyone else, or so he pretended to be.</p><p>( But letting others know of your most cherished secrets comes at a price, one he hadn't known to exist. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. friendships forged in steel ;*

**Author's Note:**

> So my Oktoberfest one-shot with Rafa and Marc is still on hold for now, but I had this idea for a while?? But I just now had the muse to write it out the past few days to where I have a few chapters already written?? I write a portion everyday so it should stay updated regularly :3 
> 
> (( this is more a prologue tbh. sort of skips around a bit the first few bits until a certain point. ))
> 
> ((( also, only underage for one chapter pretty much. but nothing is explicit or anything, i promise. )))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **** you can definitely skip straight to chapter 7 if you want, the first 6 chapters are background information leading up to the main plot, but is not necessary to know to understand the rest of the story.****

_Golden-colored sand is trapped within tiny sandals as the little boy dives head first onto the playground that is completely overtaken by other little children. His chestnut eyes are alight and bright with child-like anticipation as he glances about between the jungle gym then the slides before his gaze lands on the swing set._

_It's mostly taken except for the one's on the far left of the playground, a blond about his age sitting there with his book bag still on, his head facing towards the sand beneath his feet. As young as he is, it strikes him as odd, especially since the rest of the kids were giggling all around him. Young Rafinha nibbles on his tiny lower lip—he has quite the decision to make since his older brother, Thiago, was bound to be around only a few minutes longer since he was in the class above him—but ultimately decides that no one should be lonely._

_He ignores the shrieks off his name from a broadly grinning Neymar, whose currently kicking a red ball back and forth between a circle of boys, and instead jogs towards the lonesome blond. He can feel the familiar tingling surge throughout the very tips of his fingers as he approaches, his legs propelling him swiftly through the sand at a pace that could rival a track-star._

_He skids to a stop in front of the blond, who raises his head only slightly, then waves his hands wildly in front of his face. "Who are you?"_

_Said blond lifts his head fully then and he points to himself incredulously as if bewildered that someone was actually addressing him, "A-are you talking to me?"_

_Rafinha's little nose crinkles in response, the smile splitting across his lips blindingly bright. "You talk funny."_

_Pale cheeks flush a rosy pink as he kicks at the dirt beneath his shoe, shrugging a shoulder. "Mutter und Vater moved to here from Germany," he supplies with an apologetic smile then grips anxiously at the chains of the swing, gently rocking himself back and forth._

_"I dunno where that is." Rafinha states simply, crossing his arms across his chest, though the tingle is back and this time radiating throughout the entirety of his form; but no, he can't. It's a secret, his mommy and daddy had said so, and if Thiago could keep it a secret, then so could he. "Can I swing with you?"_

_The little blond doesn't speak anymore but instead offers a weak nod of his head. Rafinha had been born in Brazil but had moved almost immediately a year or so after his birth to Barcelona where he currently resided. Tensions were high in his previous country, something he didn't quite understand having taken place. Obviously it was enough to frighten his family, a well-known pack of shapeshifters that favored the wolf._

_He can practically feel the pinch of tiny claws at the tips of his fingers but he fights the sensation as he always does. Multiple times he had been told that it was for his protection because the other 'humans' were not accepting and would fear him. And he didn't wish to be feared, no, he only desired to have as many possible friends as he could._

_"Oh! Oh, wait." He grips at the chains of the swings then takes a few steps back before lifting his feet off the ground, kicking his legs back and forth to gain height. "What's your name?"_

_Blond and timid looks at him decisively for a moment before he repeats the action of the latter with a small smile. "Marc-André, but only my mutter calls me that.. What about you?"_

_"Rafael Alcântara, but I guess you can call me Rafa. That's what mommy does, and Thi too."_

_"I don't know who that is.."_

_Rafinha grins broadly, "He's the bestest big brother ever. You gotta meet him one day."_

_Abruptly the blond halts his movements until he's sitting idle once more, folding his hands in his lap. About a month ago was when the brunet had slowly but surely started learning the scents and their unique properties, but he can only detect the slightest bit of nervousness, the smell of musk. But not only that but he can hear the faint sound of a heartbeat thudding within his ears, not that it's usually this loud and apparent. He winces but manages to resist the urge of covering his ears as the palpitating heart increases in pace and volume, his dark burrows furrowing tightly in response._

_"I'm scared.._

_Almost immediately the brunet halts, lacking the grace that his brother usually possessed, in favor of darting a hand out to take Marc's. He offers it a warm, reassuring squeeze that should have made his heartbeat lessen in speed but to no avail. It seemed to do the complete opposite, however, as it speeds to a dangerously high pace that leaves the brunet hissing._

_"Ya' don't gotta be," reassures the brunet as he laces their fingers together without a second thought: "You have me now, and you're my new best friend.. Right?"_

_That palpitating heartbeat stutters momentarily but then the blond is smiling with a nod. "I guess so," replies the blond in a nearly-silent voice._

_Eventually the brunet starts to swing again with the blond joining him. Rafinha blabbers endlessly on about his family and his favorite classes as well as teachers leaving little to no gaps in between for the blond to even respond yet alone add on about his own life back in his mother country. Like that the two continue to chatter on until the teachers are standing up near the benches, letting the children know that it was time to return to the classrooms for the remainder of the day's lessons._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going through the kid parts is gonna be annoying, I know, but it's probably the most important in my opinion. :3 
> 
> ( it's gonna go from fluffy to serious real quick after the elementary through middle school years, trust me. enjoy it while you can. lol )


	2. of tots and train-sets ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bare with me through all these kid chapters, it leads up to the current plot which is set in high school. i just needed to put some foundation here first before we get into everything else :3

_Nearly six months later the two are completely inseparable, the two constantly spending the night at the other's house. Numerous toys had been passed back and forth between the two, as well as clothing, the two roughly the same size. Granted, Rafinha was a little chubbier than Marc was, the boy as slim as a green-bean with an impressive height for a child his age._

_One night the two are up with thirty-minutes to spare until their designated bedtime, not that they actually abide by it or anything—okay, so what? Somehow the two managed to fall asleep fifteen minutes before that set time, but they wouldn't dare tell it to a soul, especially someone like Neymar or Dani Alves who were insistent that it made them 'big boys' as opposed to little ones._

_There were lights still on within Marc's bedroom, as well as a dim and dulled nightlight, that illuminated the room as well as the two children currently on the floor toying around with a train-set. Marc is too occupied with placing the parts of the train itself on the train tracks while Rafinha is sitting little toy soldiers in its path, as well as a variety of other random plastic toys._

_"Rafa, why do you always do that?" Little Marc utters with an annoyed pout as he swipes away the little plastic toys until they clatter on the floor._

_Rafinha sticks his tongue out then gathers them up once more to place them back. "It's not fun when the train doesn't hit anything."_

_"You got me in trouble last time, remember? You told mommy that it was me, and she sent me to time-out."_

_All the brunet can do is shrug his shoulders halfheartedly as he rights the little plastic figurines back in their place. "Mom said if I get in trouble again that I can't come over anymore.. And Thi thinks it's funny, and it's not."_

_"I told you not to climb the tree last time," murmurs the blond as he reluctantly sags his shoulders to add another few figures unto the tracks: "mommy thought you broke your arm."_

_Unconsciously, the brunet rubs at the arm in question; it was completely healed and nothing was broken at all. In fact: it had managed to repair itself within a day or so. The process tended to be slower when one was a child. Or so his father had told him after scolding him for being so 'reckless.' Whatever that word meant, he wasn't quite sure, but if it had anything to do with breaking arms he knew it must be serious._

_"I did, but it fixed itself."_

_Marc glances at him suspiciously with a small frown, sitting back down once everything was situated. "What do you mean?"_

_Rafinha can feel the tingle within his fingertips as he eyes his hands. He clenches his fingers in an attempt to hide the tiny claws that form there then hide them behind his back. All the while he receives curious as well as perplexed looks from the blond who only looks onward for some type of answer. But Rafinha doesn't speak, however, only contemplates his decisions._

_To tell or not to tell? That's the question._

_"It's a secret, mommy and daddy said I can't tell."_

_Pink lips twist downward into a frown, "But you said we were best friends.."_

_"I know.."_

_"So why not?"_

_He can hear it again, the steady thumps of a heart. He can smell the budding scent of curiosity as well as he looks at the blond. "They said that it scares people."_

_"That's stupid," pouts the German once more as he reaches across the train-set to turn it on; the sound of the train starting up until it sets into motion. "I don't think you're scary, Rafa."_

_To listen to his parents and retain secrecy? Or to maybe tell his best friend of half a year that he can actually turn into a wolf—at least partially, he still wasn't able to fully shift, not until his eighteenth birthday. So he cautiously removes his hands from behind his back, though the fingers are still clenched, then hesitantly unballs them to reveal a set of centimeter length claws that are needle-sharp to the touch._

_"Wow!" The blond exclaims as he crawls around the train-set for a better look at his hands, taking them within his hands without a second thought. "Oh.. Is it okay to touch?" Not that he has to actually ask as he's already gently poking the claws with the pad of his pointer finger until a tiny dot of crimson appears._

_Rafinha winces at that. "Mommy says not to touch them." He states firmly but it's too late, the blond is already hissing softly and placing the digit within his mouth. "Wanna see what else I can do?" Since his mouth is temporarily preoccupied, he can only nod in response, eyes widening with amusement. "Okay, um—I dunno if I can do it.. Thi can, but I try sometimes."_

_He's greeted with silence, of course, Marc still nursing his punctured finger. Not that he needs a response to spur him into focus. Rafinha allows his eyes to flutter to a close, inhaling deeply then releasing a moment later. Claws slowly retract back into his skin without even an ounce of pain, and when he finally opens his eyes once more, they're a bright shade of blue resembling Marc's._

_"How awesome!" He practically shrieks as he throws his hands up into the arm, marveling at the sight before him. "How do you do that? We have the same eyes! So cool!"_

_Pleased with the result, the brunet blinks his eyes until eventually the blue fades back into the perfect shade of chestnut. "I dunno the name but mommy says I'm just special."_

_"How come I'm not special?"_

_Rafinha shrugs a halfhearted shoulder then returns to the train-set where it's softly whistling as it hits and ultimately knocks over the plastic toys in its path. "I think you're special, Marc."_

_"Even though I'm not as cool as you?"_

_Rafinha glances to the side at the blond that has now joined him, the sound of his heartbeat only increasing an increment. "No one is as cool as me."_

_"I don't like you, meany."_

_Nearly a second later the sound of footsteps echo into the room to reveal a lean woman with lengthy blond locks, a small smile gracing her lips. She points to the clock then wags a finger in a scolding a manner, though the words she speaks are in German, meant entirely for Marc. Apparently his parents hadn't thoroughly or fluently learned to speak Spanish yet though the writing portion of it all was rather impeccable._

_"What'd she say?"_

_Marc flushes crimson then immediately turns off the train-set, hunching his shoulders over in defeat. "She said I was being too loud and that I can't go to your house tomorrow.. And that we should be in bed."_

_All the brunet can do is erupt in a fit of laughter at both the expression and the tone of Marc's weary voice. Nonetheless he still manages to assist in the cleaning up of the train-set as well as the other toys even through the giggles that still wrack his tiny form. The blond, on the other hand, only pouts as he wipes at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand before gently placing the toys back into their respective bins._

_Soon the two find their way beneath the covers of the single bed within the room, both neatly fitting comfortably beneath the cover. One sleeps on his side while the other sleeps on his stomach, the sound of steady breathing soon filling the room, though the occasional snore is heard from a slumbering Marc._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****petition for more kid fics****
> 
> thank you guys for reading and for the one's who've subscribed so far :3 i appreciate it~ as always: i love you all :3 xx
> 
> ( but jeez, these next few chapters i already wrote? lawd. i might post the middle school chapter later on tonight. i'm hella eager to post all i have so far but then that's not fun. :p )


	3. blinded me with science ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the reason i tagged it as underage even though it's all implied and in no way explicit. c:

__

_It's the middle of October of his seventh grade year, elbow pressed firmly on his desk. He yawns his boredom as the teacher drones on and on about the project that was due by the end of the week. Science was one of the brunet's favorite subjects but mostly because of the variety of experiments they were allotted. What could he say? Something about dissecting animals at a lab station with a few of his best friends was exciting. Though the smell definitely wasn't._

_But there he is turning a pencil between his middle and pointer finger until the teacher finally comes to a halt, waving a hand to signal the kids that they can begin to type up the introduction to their paper. He glances to his left at an awed-looking Neymar who can only grin when he notices Rafinha's stare._

_"Since when are you excited about Science class?" Rafinha queries suspiciously with a narrow of his gaze: "or any class, really. Actually, shouldn't you be in the hallway by now messing around with Dani and Adriano?"_

_Neymar coins him an offended frown before waving the entire question off. He jerks his head in the direction of his desktop computer then offers a devious smirk. "Like you haven't ditched with me before. But anyway, I found something on my papai's computer a few days ago and I thought you'd be into it."_

_The young Brazilian notices the steady rise of the latter's heartbeat, can see the way his eyes flicker between their usual hazel to a bright amber and back. Neymar happened to be just like him, having to hide his gifts, as well as the rest of their usual crew. Despite their parents being in a pack together, the younger generation found themselves creating their own pack with interesting dynamics. Probably something that his parents would pride themselves in._

_He rolls his eyes but scoots his chair closer to Neymar regardless, the latter having successfully garnered his interest. "This is gonna be stupid, I already know."_

_"Why do you say that?"_

_"Probably because you're stupid."_

_Not that the latter argues the fact, he just thoughtfully mulls the idea over and offers a shrug of his shoulder. "Funny, Rafa. I can practically smell the love," murmurs the brunet as he glances around the classroom for any onlookers before tapping away at the address bar on the browser. "I almost got caught the other day. Apparently I smelled like hormones or something? Pheromones? Something unimportant like that."_

_"If we get in trouble, I'm blaming it all on you."_

_It's Neymar's turn to roll his eyes now as he impatiently awaits the browser to load up until finally it flickers to life with various images of women. Almost instantaneously his hazel hues are flickering once more, and he glances to the side at Rafinha for any sort of similar response. But the brunet can only stare at the bare women on the screen in various poses and positions with male counterparts with thick fingers and other body parts strategically positioned in what was meant to be attractive._

_Not that Rafinha is particularly interested in the women for that matter, though he had to admit that they were pretty in a sinful kind of way. Because no, his gaze was more focused on a rather buff-looking man that appears as a pop-up with a hand slowly stroking his cock. He has golden brown hues that stare intensely at the screen, pretty much freezing him in his spot on the chair, the brunet having to gulp deeply._

_"You like it, too. And don't lie, I can tell. Not just from the way you smell either, I have the same reaction," states the brunet as he flickers his gaze downward to glance at the tend forming within Rafinha's shorts._

_All the young Brazilian can do, however, is let his mind wander to one blond in particular. Ever since meeting that one day on the playground they had been the best of friends. Quite possibly more close than him and Neymar even though the two had known each other since literal birth. But that was besides the point as the brunet lets his mind take over; thin lips, lanky build, a head full of unruly blond locks, the all too determined look that welled within ocean-blue eyes._

_"I don't like it," hesitantly retorts the brunet as he scrambles back across the lengthy desk to his blank computer screen. He earns a scoff from Neymar that quickly turns into a startled hiss as the teacher's voice sounds behind him._

_All Rafinha can do is snicker, which he receives a glare for, as he listens to the teacher's authoritative voice. "How many times do you have to get in trouble in my class before you learn your lesson?" It looks like Neymar is about to part his lips to retort but is interrupted. "That is inappropriate and I'm giving you a week's worth of detention and a call to your parents."_

_Like that the teacher is shaking his head as he walks off, all eyes still on the hazel-hued Brazilian that is growling low in his throat. Claws are beginning to extend from his very fingertips but Rafinha is already moving into motion to cover his tanned hands with his own. Chestnut hues offer a warning yet sympathetic look as he stares pointedly into his friends eyes, the elder's lips pulling back into a snarl._

_"You can't eat our teacher, Ney." It's said with an amused chuckle, one that is soon echoed by the elder who deflates a moment later._

_"Maybe not by myself, but we could as a team."_

_He utters a snort at that then grabs his head and rubs his knuckles against his neatly styled hair, "You need a literal leash, you idiot."_

_"Stop trying to make me your bitch."_

_Soon the entire period is over and neither of the two boys have anything accomplished at all except more inside jokes to giggle about later on. The two part ways to hurry off to the last class of the day, the brunet releasing a soft yawn as he enters the classroom. Another fifty minutes passes in a blink without so much of a hassle as he exits his last class of the day, also known as the most torturous; formally known as seventh grade mathematics that would be responsible for his impending demise._

_Eventually he lines up at the front door at the classroom with his book-bag thrown over his shoulders. He eyes the clock's arm until it finally lands on the three, the sound of the bell ringing throughout the room. He manages to brisk pass the excited bodies until he slides into the hallway, already glancing around for a familiar tuft of blond. He has to meander throughout the crowded hallway in order to achieve his goal, however, finally finding the boy in question waiting near one of the doors leading toward the front of the school where his mother would be waiting._

_"I have gotta show you the weird thing Ney showed me in class earlier,"_

_Marc smiles at him then playfully bumps shoulders with him, shifting his gaze in favor of glancing around for sight of his mother in the car-line. "What is it this time? More raccoons stealing dog food or even dumber than that?"_

_Rafinha nibbles at his bottom lip contemplatively then settles on a coy grin. "Your mom still has to go out to get dinner for us, right?" The latter's brows furrow at that but he nods hesitantly. "Then you'll find out when we get home, Marquinho."_

_"That bad, huh?"_

_"You have no idea."_

_Pale hands are waving enthusiastically from a small car that is parked instead of the usual line, the sound of a voice shouting as loudly as possible in German resonating against Rafinha's eardrums. The flush that colors Marc's cheeks is pretty, muses the brunet. That was weird wasn't it? Finding another guy cute? Oh well, muses the brunet, it fit the blond well and there was no way he would refer to him any other way._

_It's only a short fifteen minute ride back to Marc's considerably large house. His mother hands off the house keys to him, saying she would only be a decent thirty-minutes at most, before offering him a departing peck on the cheek. Marc winces at that, rubbing at his now crimson cheek, then nods his head in the direction of the front door._

_"It better be quick, whatever weird thing you want to show me."_

_"Yeah, yeah. I'm not gonna get you in trouble like I did when we were younger."_

_Rafinha can feel the tingle of anticipation well within his form as he runs up the staircase to bust into the elder's room, plopping joyously down into his swivel chair. The blond huffs after he enters the room a minute later, arms crossing over his chest, then releasing a soft sigh._

_"You said you would stop using your wolf-thing around me,"_

_Well okay, yeah. That was understandable. Thiago had even said as much, that it was unfair to the others that didn't possess the gift that they had. So he releases a groan then nods, "Okay. Fine. Whatever, no super senses." He eyes the blond from the corner of his eye while his fingers swiftly tap at the keys until the browser is loading._

_Soft sounds of moaning resonates within the young wolf's ears as well as the sight of enormous breasts that practically take up the entirety of the screen. When he shifts in the chair to gauge the blond's reaction, his met with thoroughly flushed cheeks and lips that are slightly parted. His brows are furrowed tightly together and his gaze can't seem to focus on Rafinha's face nor the computer screen._

_"Your big surprise was—was porn!" Marc shields his eyes with his hands then shakes his head. "No, Rafa, stop. Turn it off, my dad already had that talk with me."_

_"There's a name for it?"_

_The blond peers through the cracks his fingers make to scowl at the brunet, "Is that all you got from that?"_

_"Look, no. Stop. It's not bad, okay? I, uh—I told Neymar I didn't like it, but I did.. And I just wanted to show you because I thought you'd like it too.. Maybe?"_

_"I didn't say I didn't like—That's not—.." Rafinha's lips twist down into a small frown as he goes to exit the screen but is stopped by a pale hand darting out in his direction: "You don't have to, I-I like it too."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_The two teenagers look at each for an embarrassed moment; one shifting uncomfortably while the other focuses intently on not using his power to be intrusive. It's a hard fought struggle, especially when a heady scent fills the air, the brunet not able to resist thoroughly inhaling it. It's undeniably Marc and he finds himself nearly intoxicated, at least enough to send his mind whirling to the point where he feels dizzy and has to grip onto the computer desk to steady himself._

_Awkward silence fills the room, the blond timidly clearing his throat. Rafinha glances at him with an imploringly stare and slender fingers extend to point at one of the videos that lines the side of the screen. More on their own accord than anything, his hand goes toward the mouse to direct it towards the link that shows a preview before finally clicking it._

_Sounds ultimately fill the room but it's barely even background noise, not with the stuttering heartbeat of the blond a few feet away from him. No words are exchanged as the two get comfortable and eventually find themselves more than just enjoying the video, though the brunet's attentions are still more on the blond than anything else. The way his face contorts, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip, how his blond head falls back._

_It's then the brunet feels something unfamiliar bubble within him until he releases a gasp that is more growl into the air. The sound is so foreign to him, something completely new, but not unwelcome. When he glances at Marc with a breathless and bashful smile, the same reaction is followed through by him. Heat gathers on the Brazilian's face and he utters a cough as he glances back toward the screen to hurriedly clear the browser history before exiting altogether._

_Marc shifts uncomfortably in his jeans then, not breathing a word. But the silence was nearly deafening for the brunet and he can't help but speak: "Do you regret it?"_

_Rafinha is transfixed by the sight of the latter's tongue swiping along his lower lip, his fingers coming up to pinch the bitten skin there. "I never regret anything with you, you know that."_

_"Cool, dude. Wanna play some Fifa or something until your mom gets here?"_

_"As long as I get the glowing controller, then yeah."_

_"Deal."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote, like, 3 chapters yesterday and i don't know how they got so violent so quick... so i'll probably edit those. maybe? unless violence is good? lol :p x


	4. wolf-o-ween ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost the end of the middle school years, you're gonna wish it stayed in this timeline. lmao

_Days go by without an ounce of lingering awkwardness between the two boys. Nothing was out of the ordinary except the increase of tension that seemed to radiate in electric streams whenever the two were in close proximity. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of the pack, however, but the brunet doesn't feel inclined to entertain eany of them._

_He'd be damned if he allowed the sly comments ruin whatever semblance of a friendship he had with Marc. The blond, of course, was completely oblivious to the majority of it considering he was more focused on Rafinha than anything else. Which was definitely okay, mused the brunet, as he scratches at the hair plastered to his cheeks. It's rather itchy and he can't fathom how his father maintained a beard._

_He's currently standing in front of his full-length mirror with his mother primping his tattered black and red plaid shirt, tearing at the bottom hem until she was satisfied. "This is the only time it's okay to show your eyes, meu príncipe."_

_Rafinha swats at his mother's fiddling hands and frowns, "Pare mamãe. I look fine, and I know." He offers her a broad grin, his canine's elongated ever so slightly. "If someone asked where I got my costume though, I'll just tell them it's genetics."_

_Valéria offers him a stern look with her eyes but the smile twitching at the corners of her lips betrays her. "You really are your father's child,"_

_A soft chuckle echoes from the door frame, a fondly smiling Thiago standing there. "That's not really original, little brother."_

_"And Batman is?"_

_Thiago frowns at that then crosses his arms defensively over his chest, "He's the savior of Gotham, that's pretty cool, I think."_

_Valéria places her hands on the younger's shoulders and offers them a warm squeeze before she shifts on her heel to smile reassuring at the eldest boy. "It's wonderful, darling. You look so handsome, though I do think you could have done something different with your hair.. If you'd just let me—"_

_Tanned hands raise defensively before him as he inches away from the door frame in favor of escaping his mother's avid need to primp. "No, no—I'm good, I promise." But Valéria is already heading toward him, coining a wink back at the younger._

_It was rather early in the evening all things considered, and the day of the Halloween party the school was putting on. All grade levels were invited and encouraged to attend to celebrate in advance for the actual holiday that was on Saturday. There wasn't anything interesting going on that Friday night so the brunet had opted to attend along with his older brother for a night of fun and bonding, though it was guaranteed the two wouldn't even be around each other. (Thiago had his own circle of friends that he spent time with.)_

_Thinking inside the box—rather than outside like his older brother—the brunet had decided to go as something familiar. Instead of an elaborate costume and a cliche superhero, he had figured that parodying his own lineage would be too hilarious to pass up. Hence why he has hair plastered to his cheeks as side-burns with authentic blue orbs and canine's that gleamed when they hit the light just right. He's already anticipating the looks that he would receive from Marc as well as the rest of his crew who had also kept their respective costumes secret until this very night._

_Minutes later after circling around his mirror and taking in different angles of his costume, he's called down along with his brother by his mother who is already leaving the home by the time he makes it downstairs. Thiago slings an arm around his shoulders as the two exit through the front door and towards the car that patiently waits in the driveway, the lights gleaming a soft pale yellow._

_Within twenty-minutes the trio arrives at the front of the school where a litany of eagerly chattering children are, along with a few parents serving as chaperons. Instead of pecking the two boys, she playfully flashes her eyes, then offers a parting wave. Rafinha is first to exit as he delves through the throng of people and into the school where the gymnasium was located._

_Black and orange streamers are hanging loosely from the bleachers, there are multiple tables lined up, and music plays boisterously through the speakers. There are tubs of apples available with mats beneath them as well as Halloween-themed pinatas and a variety of other types of games available. Someone takes advantage of his distracted state and jumps on him but something is poking him in the back._

_He eases up and releases a sigh when realization dawns on exactly who it is; a very enthusiastic Neymar who is pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What took you so long, princesa? And what's up with the hair? Meu deus."_

_Rafinha rolls his eyes, an action very common when dealing with the elder, and shrugs him off his back so he can view his costume. He's torn between disbelief and not much else as he swallows enough air to release it in the form of chuckles. He leans forward to place his hands on his knees, tears beginning to well within his eyes. He blindly reaches out a hand, to which the Brazilian gladly accepts. Soon he's joined in laughter until the two gather curious onlookers._

_"What the—What did you—? Not even what, but why?"_

_The Brazilian can only grin as he models his banana costume, "You know me. I have to be different."_

_"But a banana? You couldn't be satisfied with being normal for an hour?"_

_Neymar looks as smug as ever as he waves the statement off in favor of grabbing the latter's arm and towing him toward a small table that his friends are crowded around. "Our last musketeer is finally here after a millennium of waiting, you guys."_

_The first he meets eyes with is Marc, whose dressed as cultural as one could imagine. Even though he's far too traditional for Halloween, all the brunet can do is smile at him. It's returned almost immediately as the blond shifts out of his chair to go meet the brunet halfway as he approaches the table. He slings an arm around the younger boy then snorts when Rafinha playfully nuzzles his hairy cheek against Marc's._

_"You know this is a Halloween party, right?"_

_Pale cheeks flush in response as he releases the younger in favor of hooking his fingers beneath his suspenders. "My mom didn't have time to buy me a costume this year, but it's not like there's a lot of Bavarians here in Barcelona or anything. So I figured it'd be okay."_

_Once more the brunet gazes upon the blond and his attire; socks hiked up to his knees, shiny dress shoes, knee-length emerald shorts and a pristine white dress-shirt that's cuffed around his wrists. He receives a jab in the ribs from Neymar, who was more than aware of his heartbeat, then offers him a reassuring smile._

_"No, no—You look—.. Good, really good. I like it, a lot. We could use some more Bavarians in Barcelona, don't you think?" Rafinha stutters awkwardly as he avoids gazes with the blond in favor of reaching for a cup of crimson red punch from the table to swallow down._

_"Not really, I think I'd get replaced and then I'd be jealous."_

_Dani stare at the two, perplexed, with thick brows furrowed tightly together. "Hey Rafa? We're your friends, too."_

_Gerard nods his head vigorously in response then leans an elbow upon the table, sliding his gaze toward Sergi who only shrugs his shoulders in response. "What's going on between you two?"_

_It's then the two boys look at each other in a silent exchange before the blond nods at Rafinha, the brunet only grinning bashfully in response to the rest of the group. "I have no idea what you're talking about and even if I did, I don't think I'd tell you."_

_"Whatever. But it's a party, we should dance."_

_Everyone looks at Neymar whose already beginning to shimmy his shoulders from side to side with a broad grin as he points toward Dani and Marcelo whose lips are already spreading to reveal a blindingly bright smile. But while he's backing up, he bumps into someone, who clears her throat with a pretty flush tainting her smooth cheeks._

_He heaves a sigh as he connects eyes with a snickering Gerard before he finally shifts to face the girl. "Hey, um—I was just wondering if, maybe, you wanted to dance with me? If that's okay?" Bruna says in the most saccharine tone she could muster, fluttering her lashes hopefully._

_Neymar, who glances back at the rest of the guys for some form of assistance, can only sigh when he receives none. "I was actually about to—"_

_Then suddenly Dani and Gerard and flanking both his sides and pushing him eagerly toward the young woman, "Nah. He's free, he did just say he wanted to dance."_

_"Really?"_

_Neymar scowls at Dani and then Gerard but ultimately offers a forced smile nonetheless. "I guess I am since my friends obviously don't love me. Let's go?" And like that she hooks arms with the teen and practically drags him towards the middle of the floor._

_Gerard and Dani high-five each other and laugh their amusement as they return to the group that is chattering absently among themselves. But the pale boy is flushing when his eyes land on a beautiful sandy-brown haired girl who is softly laughing at something one of the other girls has said. Her brown eyes slide to his then she glances away but then does a double-take only to flush deeply this time, nervously tucking a lock of wavy hair behind her ear._

_Dani nods his head in her direction then shoves the unnaturally tall teen in her general vicinity, the boy having to stop his propelling form with steadying hands on the table, to which he leans across to smile at her. Emerald hues are locked on the two as they enter a barely audible conversation, temporary ignoring what else was going on around him._

_"Right, Dani?"_

_"What? Oh, yeah. Right."_

_Sergi looks at him with a rather dejected frown before returning back to the conversation at hand, "It serves him right after all those pranks he pulled."_

_But Rafinha is more or less tuning the gossip out in favor of watching the way Marc's eyes widen at the words spewing from those around them. He finds his gaze surveying the Bavarian-wear once more until his cheeks warm when he's acknowledged with a smile. He can barely get the muscles of his face to cooperate as he struggles to return the smile, wavering awkwardly from foot to foot._

_"Are you okay?" Marc's voice whispers suddenly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder: "Or it just the irony of your costume?"_

_The Brazilian releases a snort at that then nods his head in the direction of a dark corner of the gym. "Let's go talk over there? Sergi is getting annoying, and I can't stand watching Neymar dance in that stupid banana suit anymore."_

_Blink, blink. The blond accepts the offer with a nod of his head as he allows the younger to direct them towards the barely-lit area. He slides down the side of the bleachers until his bottom meets the cool, hard floor then shifts his full attention toward Rafinha. The brunet repeats the action and extends his legs out before him, palms laying flat on the floor._

_"Really, Rafa. What's wrong?"_

_"Remember that video we watched last week?"_

_Marc stares at him imploringly but remains silent a moment as if recalling it all. He clears his throat then swallows deeply but nods affirmatively. "Yeah, I do. What about it?"_

_Blue hues flicker back to chestnut as he watches the way the latter fiddles anxiously with his thumbs. "I've been thinking about it a lot, y'know.. And I guess I wanted to know if you did too?"_

_One pale shoulder shrugs in response, "I don't really remember it all that much." He huffs a sigh then runs slender digits through unruly blond locks. "But why does that matter?"_

_Russet cheeks flush a deep crimson and his eyes flash a brief blue once more. "I don't remember it either, not really."_

_"You're only saying that because I said I didn't remember it though."_

_Always so intuitive. His russet hand goes to the back of his head to scratch there decisively, eyes narrowing slightly as he stares at the freshly polished floor. "That's not completely true."_

_"Then that makes you a liar," mused the blond as he reaches out to place a hand on top of Rafinha's knee._

_"Nah, never that. I guess what I'm trying to say is—is that I remember you, and what we did. Not the stupid videos."_

_He can hear the deafening sound of the blond gulp, can only hear his silence versus the rest of the party still booming. The pale hand at his knees hesitates momentarily before he removes it in favor of folding his hands within his lap. His blond head bows to stare at the floor or perhaps the hands in his lap, Rafinha isn't certain which, but then he hears a laugh that completely throws him off. He leans away from the bleacher at his back in an attempt to gaze upon the latter's face but is met with flushed cheeks and ivory teeth sunken into a thin lower lip._

_"Uh..?"_

_The hand is placed on his knee once more and the blond finally looks up to meet the brunet's inquisitive gaze. "Me too. I didn't care about what was going on on the screen, I was—I was looking at you and I was—.." He takes a deep breath then Rafinha looks away, smiling smugly to himself. "I was wondering what you were thinking about, I guess? And if you were thinking about me too.."_

_Like that he snaps his head back in the direction of the blond and can't hide the way his nails elongate, how his eyes darken considerably as he stares at him. He recognizes the sensations that bubble within his chest but doesn't dare put a name to it as he places a hand over the one on his knee. He wets his lips as he stares pointedly at Marc's._

_"I thought that, but being a wolf doesn't give me the power to read minds, so.."_

_Marc utters another soft laugh at that but the brunet can't take it any longer. Before he can process what he's doing or even the effects it would have, he's leaning forward to peck those inviting lips. He hears a soft gasp in response when their lips touch, can feel that familiar electricity, so he does it again. And again. And he can't seem to stop, especially not when there's no audible complaints about his actions._

_Soon he feels the latter reciprocate as those thin lips press back against his plumper ones. He growls deep within his throat as he blindly places his palms upon the floor in an attempt to get into a better position. Eventually he finds himself splayed across the elder's lap with his pale arms pinned above him against the bleachers, his mouth never halting in its inexperienced assault._

_Not that the blond seems to mind as he shifts his hips uncomfortably beneath the brunet, his hands going to support his waist—much like he has witnessed on television as well as movies. But then his hands are moving from his hips toward his back where he strokes his fingers against his protruding spine through the plaid material of his shirt._

_Almost as quickly as it begins, it's soon ending. Rafinha is panting and gulping deeply and the sound of labored breathing beneath him actually makes him snort. He apologizes quietly for his affections then reluctantly crawls out of his lap and back to his spot on the floor, fingers fumbling to properly right his shirt once more._

_"What does it mean, Rafa?" Marc questions, his fingers brushing along his lower lip, smiling to himself._

_Rafinha only snorts in response as he wets his bottom lip once more: "Whatever you want it to?"_

_"I want to be the only Bavarian in Barcelona in your life."_

_Dark brows rise toward his hairline and he can barely contain the chuckles that bubble within his chest: "Maybe if you promise to never say anything cheesy like that again?"_

_There's a bright gleam in oceanic hues despite the darkness that surrounds them as he grins at the brunet, playfully bumping shoulders with him. "I don't make promises I can't keep, you know that."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heuheuheuehu


	5. baby, i'm your boyfriend ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaaah.

_Whatever weird relationship title the boys had managed to conjure that day was sworn to secrecy, at least until the two were confident enough to confess to their parents as well as their friends. With that said, there was something oddly thrilling about sneaking around each other with sly smiles and subtle touches when within the cafeteria._

_Of course having a pack meant they automatically knew something was up, especially when he smelled more like Marc than necessary. Even with that knowledge he hadn't expected to get hounded—hah, puns—by a curiously sniffing Neymar who literally presses his nose to his throat then pulls back to stare at him suspiciously with a narrowed gaze and furrowed brows._

_Dani had been right with him but he didn't feel the need to press any further than sniffing the air, arms crossed firmly across his chest. Something about the stern look he was receiving reminded him much of Thiago when he was determined to reel out information from him; a concerned almost brotherly look mixed in with morbid curiosity, it was._

_"We're not stupid, Raf."_

_Rafinha nearly winces at the bigger boy's tone and he mentally seethes that being a wolf hadn't granted him access to telepathy otherwise he would certainly contact the blond. Instead he leans back as casually as possible against the row of lockers behind him, crossing his arms defensively over his chest, as he peers from one boy to the other._

_"Enlighten me? I might have missed something?"_

_"Yeah, probably. With the way you drool over Ter I wouldn't be that surprised." Comes the sarcastic response from Neymar who stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Dani, the two glancing at each other then back to the brunet._

_"I don't drool, that's how I know you don't know what you're talking about." Unconsciously he brushes his arm across his mouth then flashes a nervous smile._

_Dani has these piercing, emerald eyes that could practically stare through the entirety of your soul which made it nearly impossible to lie to him. Hence why he writhes against the lockers uncomfortably: "Really, Rafa? Do you really want to lock in that answer?"_

_For a split moment he thinks to fib again but ultimately groans and hunches his shoulders in defeat. "Okay, okay. Fine, just—just stop looking at me like that, your eyes really freak me out." Neymar snickers at that then is elbowed in the ribs, the Brazilian whimpering in response as he rubs the area. "Marc is like my.." He thinks of the proper word to use: "Boyfriend? Sort of?"_

_Almost instantaneously the hazel-eyed Brazilian bursts out in a fit of giggles as he now leans forward to grip at his stomach, smacking a hand at his knee. "Meu deus, it sounded like you—like you said 'boyfriend,' Rafa."_

_For lack of better things to do, he awkwardly scratches at his cheek then glances around for something to occupy his attentions with. He's more than aware of the scrutiny he's undergoing by Dani, who hums softly to himself, while he can see Neymar swiping at the tears that had formed in his eyes through his peripheral. Finally he finds a clock to stare at then sighs in relief when he sees it's almost time for him to return to his final class of the day._

_"You've gotta be kidding me, princesa."_

_Rafinha snaps his attention to the latter on reflex then frowns. Before he can part his lips to reassure that he wasn't kidding, the bell sounds overheard and he sighs gratefully. He gathers his things from his locker, slings his bag over his shoulder, then manages to delve into the crowd of bodies that exit the various classrooms down the hallway._

_He knows for certain that he's not in the clear as of yet and would have to explain sooner rather than later to his dismay. But when he strolls into the classroom, he's relieved by the sight of his favorite blond sitting near the back row of the classroom. Eagerly he joins him and plops down in the desk right beside him, offering him a broad grin._

_"You have no idea how happy I am to see you after that Brazilian Inquisition."_

_Marc's eyes are practically twinkling beneath the lights as he stares at the brunet, a fond smile gracing his lips. "I'm happy to you see all the time, meu amor." He states, making the brunet flush deeply. "But what do you mean 'Brazilian Inquisition?' What happened?"_

_Once more he winces, shifting his attentions to his clear desk. He grabs a pencil from his bag to erase the doodles upon the desk thoughtfully before turning back to a perplexed Marc. "I may or may not have been pressured into telling Juninho and Dani that we're, y'know, a thing."_

_One of the blond's brows quirk in response, "You couldn't have maybe told them that's we're together."_

_"So I may have used your name and my name in the same sentence as 'boyfriend' since girlfriend didn't really apply to us.. Maybe?" Instead of the general outrage he had been expecting from the blond, he's instead met with one of those rare, huge grins that are way too big for Marc's mouth. "I wasn't expecting that but okay. Why so happy?"_

_"I already told my mom and dad about you—or, well, us—and they were okay with it. I just—I've been waiting for you to tell the guys and maybe Thiago, too. But you haven't and I didn't want to pressure you into thinking you had to and—and I'm just so happy, Rafa."_

_"Wait, wait. You told your parents? I didn't even tell mamãe or papai yet, though I think Thi might have already figured it out?"_

_"I didn't want to say anything about it because I didn't want to make you upset or anything but I want everyone to know. So that's why I kept quiet about it all because I care about your feelings so much."_

_Blink, blink. There it is again, the weird thing his stomach does whenever the blond says something remotely romantic. What was it called again? Butterflies? Maybe not that, mused the brunet, since he was a boy and certainly he wouldn't get something so feminine like that. But something was surely welling within his stomach and continued to build the more he gazed into those eyes that rival the clear oceans of Barcelona._

_Rafinha groans then buries his face within his hands, "I'm sorry. I've never had a girlfriend or, well, boyfriend before so I don't really know how these things work. At all. I guess I should have asked Neymar since he dated Bruna for a week after the dance. Or maybe Geri since he has Shakira now."_

_Soon the brunet feels a warm hand upon his shoulder, offering it a warm squeeze. "I don't know either but I know my mom and dad and they treat each other like this. I know it's the right way, it has to be."_

_He pulls back his hand from his face to peer at the blond with glassy chestnut hues, "You think so?"_

_"I know so."_

_While the two are busy smiling at each other, the teacher has already announced that class has begun. Not that Rafinha cared when he was determined to do everything he could to ensure maximum happiness between him and his first crush since the fifth grade. Perhaps it was naive to think that in seventh grade things would work for the best, but he hoped they would. For his sake, at least._

_Having someone that understood him in ways that his other friends couldn't fathom was reassuring and it felt amazing. Always he had been told by his parents that no one would ever understand him like his 'pack' would; they would be going through the same changes as well, would be struggling with maintaining their humanity during school too. But he felt more normal than that, almost as if he wasn't a wolf disguised as a human and playing the part damn well—if he had any say in it, that is, considering no one else had figured out his secret in the past few years without him willingly exposing it._

_He retrieves his notebook from his book bag then attempts to focus on the words the teacher says. What he really does is aimlessly doodle along the otherwise blank piece of paper. He steals glances when he thinks Marc doesn't notice every once in a while but is usually met with a smile whenever he does so. So much for having the stealth aspect of wolfdom, muses the brunet, as he rips out a page to scrawl neatly upon it._

_He folds it as neatly as possible then clears his throat loud enough to garner a few student's attention. Marc glances at him with furrowed brows but then notices the note and feigns a yawn to snatch it away. He grins to himself as he opens it and reads the contents, offering a thumbs up toward Rafinha, who nibbles at the end of a pen._

_"Mr. Alcântara, is there something you want to share with the class?"_

_Russet cheeks flush deeply as he squirms within his seat, vigorously shaking his head. "Not really, no. But after school this Thursday we're all getting together to play some football. So if anyone's interested?"_

_All the elderly man can do is frown at the usual antics then click his tongue. "And if anyone has anything else to say, you will be joining Mr. Alcântara in detention this afternoon."_

_Marc, never one to be on the receiving end of a detention, spares a glance at the brunet before hesitantly opening his mouth to speak. "I call goalkeeper."_

_Bewilderment crosses the elderly man's features as he blanches at the blond, his brows furrowing tightly together. "Marc-André, you are aware that you are not immune for a detention as well?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_Old and mousy shakes his head then frowns in the blond's direction. "Then you, too, can serve detention as well."_

_All Rafinha can do is smile proudly to himself as he finally delves into the lesson for the day. He can't manage to keep the smile off his lips the entire time but is more than eager to complete the class for extra time with the blond. In what seems like only minutes the bell drones noisily above for a solid minute and he's sighing gratefully for it; something about the monotonous tone of the man doing weird things to his mind, giving him a headache._

_The sound of shuffling echoes throughout the classroom and he can practically smell the woodsy scent of Neymar outside the classroom door waiting for him. He mentally curses himself as he gathers all the essentials into his bag, glancing toward Marc who's already neatly packed up, an almost melancholy smile upon his lips._

_"You didn't have to do that, Marc."_

_"I'm not mad that I did it, just thinking of what my mom's going to say when she sees I've gotten detention for the first time."_

_Rafinha snorts his amusement, "It's about time you stop being all goody-goody. It's sort of, I dunno, touching you got in trouble for me."_

_Marc returns the smile then slings an arm around the younger's shoulder as the two stroll out of the classroom, nearly bumping directly into Neymar in the process. The young Brazilian scowls at the blond but smiles nonetheless at Rafinha: "Cute. Now come on, we gotta talk about this.. Thing."_

_"I have detention and so does Marc so we sort of can't right now."_

_The smugness of Neymar's face is blatant as well as the smirk that crosses his countenance. He reaches in his pocket to retrieve a small slip of paper then waves it within the younger Brazilian's face: "Looky here, so do I. Guess today we're the three musketeers."_

_Marc looks at Rafinha and then Neymar then back to the brunet who only shrugs a halfhearted shoulder. All three walk in complete silence for lack of anything interesting to speak about. As the three walk towards the designated detention classroom, the brunet and blond casually bump shoulders with each other all the while a very perceptive Neymar rolls his eyes then forces his way in between the two._

_The room is nearly vacant save for two other kids that are near the back of the classroom, heads down on the desk, obviously deep in slumber already. The three trek to the front of the classroom where a simple desk lay to sign in before grabbing three desks near the center of the room. Their bags are strewn haphazardly across the floor, the silence continuing awkwardly until finally one of the trio opens their mouths._

_"So you weren't lying?"_

_Rafinha leans across his desk to where Marc is positioned in front of him, peering up at him through his lashes. "Nope."_

_"So you're actually dating my best friend since forever?"_

_Marc's cheek flush a faint pink, "Since the Halloween party." He smiles down at Rafinha who resembles a puppy with the way his chestnut hues stare up at him._

_"Can you not be all—all this in front of me? I'm trying to have a serious conversation but I feel like I'm gonna puke or something."_

_Apologies are in order and then the brunet's attention is on Neymar, leaning back comfortably in his desk. "Sorry. To be fair: you were like this with Bruna but it was a lot worse for us. All she did was tell you how cute you were."_

_Cue the vain grin that tugs on his lips as he tugs on the sides of his jacket, wiggling his brows playfully. "She had good taste. But this isn't about that anyway, this about you two dating." He hisses the last word then scowls toward the blond once more._

_"How's it any different, Neymar?" Marc inquires with genuine curiosity as he places an elbow upon the desk, rubbing his chin between his fingers._

_"It's the same but different," insists the Brazilian as he glances at Rafinha like the latter would understand what he was referring to._

_"Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying that because we're guys?" Rafinha pipes in as he attempts to reason with the hazel-eyed boy that makes an affirmative noise in the back of his throat._

_Short fingers grip into the peculiar hairstyle the Brazilian sports before he points in the latter's direction. "That's sort of it. But he's not one of us, Rafa."_

_Rafinha spares a sympathetic glance at the blond who then bows his head to face the floor. "—So who do you think would be better for me then?"_

_Neymar shrugs a shoulder then nips at his lower lip, "Just not him."_

_A weary-looking young woman saunters into the classroom and orders the children to quiet themselves for the thirty-minutes that detention ensured. She was mostly on her phone, however, and not actually paying the students any mind whatsoever. She shushes the students when they get too loud but otherwise doesn't complain about the conversations going on around her._

_When the time is up, Marc excuses himself and explains that he would need to go outside to face his mother's wrath alone leaving the two Brazilian near the front of the school. Russet arms are folding neatly across his chest while his eyes stare straight ahead at the few cars that still lingered in the parking lot. He hears the whimpering echoing from beside him but doesn't dare even so much as glance in his general vicinity._

_Tanned hands are attaching themselves to his upper arm but he vehemently shakes it off. He growls deep in his throat then hears another soft sound echo from the boy beside him. "What?"_

_Neymar releases a sigh then runs a hand through his thin hair, scratching absently at his scalp. "I'm sorry, honest."_

_The tip of Rafinha's tongue is between his teeth as he contemplates a response. "I don't want to talk to you right now."_

_"Just think about what I said, please? I just want you to be happy, that's all I want."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more middle school chapter before jumping headfirst into the plot.
> 
> oh jeez. i hope you're ready for this rollercoaster.


	6. a little too late ;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured why not just post the last middle school chapter ? because why not ?

_It was an unusually chilly November afternoon that didn't go unappreciated by the brunet nor his friends. Everyone was gathered in the field at the local park with teams being sporadically conjured. As per usual the brunet gets the pleasure on being on a team with Marc who was the goalkeeper extraordinaire of his intricate group of friends._

_Lately Neymar, arguably his closest friend after Marc, had been distancing himself and had actually volunteered to be on the opposing team. Dani had also volunteered to join the team which had left Rafinha, Marc, Sergi, and Gerard on a team with a few other boys whom they weren't particularly friends with. But whatever, muses the brunet, he would revel in the sight of Neymar being tackled by Gerard who had grown nearly a foot overnight. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was jealous of the sudden growth spurt, wishes that he would soon hit his so he wouldn't be cursed with shortness forever._

_He offers a tiny smile toward Marc then shoves him towards the goal before he too jogs towards the center of the field. Munir, a boy in the class beneath them, manages to get the ball away from a very red-faced Fernando who increases his speed in an attempt to retrieve it. But instead Rafinha pushes himself and is passed the ball from Munir as he runs towards the opposing teams keeper, Oblak._

_This is when he uses his speed to his advantage to run down the center of the field, eyes searching for any of his other teammates. But he doesn't tune in to the sound of furious footfalls behind him and is tackled to the ground, sending him rolling in a heap within the damp grass. "What the—Really?" When he glances up to view the perpetrator he's met with the back of Arturo's head, his eyes narrowing as he makes a mental note to get payback._

_One of his fellow teammates grabs his hand and tugs him to his feet before the two jog off towards their goal that is currently under siege. He watches as the ball rolls across the field from Vidal to Dani who swiftly passes it off to an already panting Antoine that goes for the goal and manages to pocket it in the corner before Marc can figure out which direction it was going._

_His usual slicked back hair is sticking up in certain spots as he whoops to himself, a few of the other guys calling to congratulate him. Rafinha only rolls his eyes as he bumps shoulders with Gerard, leaning forward to whisper in his ear: "Watch out for that little one that just scored, he's pretty good."_

_"Just luck," murmurs the living beanstalk as he gets into position._

_An amused snort echoes from the brunet at that as he makes eye contact with the blond keeper who's glancing around for who he should throw the ball to. He offers a small grin to Rafinha but doesn't pass it to him, instead sending it Sergi who stops it with his chest, then allows it to touch the ground before he begins to maneuver through the throng of bodies attempting to block his way._

_He mentally curses when a leg comes up behind Sergi but he doesn't trip, he stumbles but manages to maintain contact with the ball. The blue-eyed boy passes it off to whoever is closest, their strong legs propelling him forward. But when he goes to pass it off when approaching Oblak, it's intercepted by none other than Neymar, who's smugly smirking to himself._

_If the goal of the beautiful game was to play dirty then so be it; after all, someone on that team had sent him spiraling to the ground earlier. His eyes flash a deep cerulean as he avoids the bodies running as fast as physically possible—at least for their standards—to defend the goalpost. But of course he's faster than all of them combined—though the sound of their pounding heartbeats is more than a distraction at the back of his mind. Nonetheless he manages to slide through the grass to trip the Brazilian who stumbles forward on his hands until his palms are dirtied by the damp grass._

_He rolls within the grass, wiping his hands on his shorts as he does so, then glances up to meet Rafinha's gaze. All the brunet can do is smirk triumphantly as he stares down at the boy before jogging off backwards as his team had managed to steal the ball from a now fuming Fernando Torres. Neymar growls deep within his throat as he lurches off the ground to jog beside him, hazel-hues narrowed as he scowls at him._

_About ten minutes of the back and forth goes on until finally Munir manages to sneak a goal in. Oblak grumbles to himself as he throws the ball in to Antoine who's ready and already in motion by the time it hits the ground. His cheeks are flushed a deep scarlet and his legs are speckled with grass as he runs down the side of the field, glancing around for any sign of his teammates._

_Soon he notes the nod of Neymar's head then passes it off toward him and the Brazilian is nearly lightning as he takes it down the center of the field to face off with Marc. He narrows his lids in concentration as he focuses on the spot where he was determined to score from then kicks as hard as he could until it barrels towards the German._

_Hands, one's that adorn two fitted gloves, manage to barely deflect it until it rolls over the top net of the goalpost. Cheers and whoops, mostly coming from Rafinha, echo around them as the team makes a running bee-line toward the blond. But something happens that sends the brunet racing toward him faster than the rest of the boys; it's the sight of the blond falling to his knees in the grass, burying his face within his hands._

_He catches a conversation that sounds off behind him and rolls his eyes:_

_"I told you not to kick it that hard, Neymar."_

_He hears the familiar scoff, "Shut up, Greasy."_

_"Don't tell me to shut up, you—you.. You ball-hog." When Rafinha glances back he finds the smaller of the two thrusting a finger into Neymar's shoulder._

_"Do that again and I swear I'll eat your face." With that the Brazilian shoves the smaller boy but the smaller doesn't relent, no._

_"What kind of a threat even is that?"_

_"Would you like to find out?"_

_Rafinha dismisses the argument once he spots Fernando sliding in between them, a hand on either of their chests to separate them. He hesitantly removes Marc's hands from shielding his face and that's when he notices the glassiness of his eyes as well as the crystalline tears that steadily stream down the planes of his face._

_"Is he okay?" He hears Dani inquire as he places a hand onto Rafinha's shoulder._

_The Brazilian doesn't look at him nor confirm an answer as he tugs away the gloves to intently scan over his hands for any damage but to no avail. All his fingers were in tact and nothing appeared out of the ordinary which left him staring at the blond with wide, pleading eyes._

_"I-I'm sorry, I can't.. Rafa, I'm s-so sorry.." Blubbers the blond as he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, never once meeting the brunet's concerned gaze._

_"Why? What happened? Are you okay? Marquinho, look at me?"_

_But he never does. Instead he proceeds to cry harder until sobs wrack his lanky form. So Rafinha does the only thing he knows how to do; he twines fingers with the elder then wraps an arm around him in a warm, protective embrace. Another few voices make little quips here and there but the young Brazilian is waving them off and away from the scene._

_"We're gonna sit next game out, you guys. Get another keeper, I'm gonna go talk to Marc."_

_And with that he manages to stand up with the blond still within his clutches, transporting them towards where a row of bleachers are. The blond blindly steps up the rows until they reach the very top which is out of earshot from everyone else minus the other wolves that were bound to be listening in from on the field. But Rafinha doesn't care about that aspect as he allows the blond to cry into his neck, his warm breath coming out in hot puffs._

_"Hey, hey. I haven't seen you cry since last year, what's wrong? Why won't you talk to me? D-did I do something bad?"_

_For once in what seems like a year the brunet sounds exactly what he is; a child. His voice is airy and light as he speaks, sniffling himself at the unknown situation at hand. Minutes tick by like that, the sound of soft sobs resonating against his eardrums, the clench of nails in his skin as the blond holds onto him like he was some sort of anchor._

_"I-I'm leaving, Rafa.." It's said in one of the most melancholy ways imaginable and he can barely process it all as the realization dawns of what the words entail._

_Marc continues to tremble within his arms even a minute after he allows the information to sink in. He gulps deeply then fights the claws that threaten to pierce the bare skin of Marc's arm. "You're what?"_

_"Moving, Rafa. They said we're m-m-moving away from Barcelona."_

_"To where—what? Why?"_

_All the blond does is shake his head in response as he sinks his nails further into the brunet's skin. "I don't know.. They just said we're leaving and—and I wanted to tell you before but I-I couldn't. I didn't know how then everyone s-started cheering my name and I just—I just couldn't take it anymore."_

_Is this what it feels like to have a broken heart? He swears he can hear the bitter and dull sound of his heart slowly but surely freezing up and hardening until it finally turns brittle to shatter into a million little pieces. Never once had he thought about this situation, had never imagined that either of them would ever have to move away from the city both adored and cherished._

_Television shows and his mother could have never prepared him for this sort of pain. And he thought wrestling along with the other young wolves was bad. Nothing compared to this, nothing would ever compare to this. He sits there thoughtfully for another minute as he stares toward the field where the game was still in full-effect, groaning when Fernando sinks in another goal for the opposing team._

_"It doesn't matter," murmurs the brunet abruptly._

_"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Rafa, it matters. I won't see you again and—"_

_"You're not leaving, so it doesn't matter."_

_The blond withdraws from the embrace, eyes rimmed with red and face flushed beet red, to gawk at the brunet as if hadn't properly understood. "What are you talking about?""_

_Fingers tap rhythmically against the bare arm of the blond for another minute. "Because you don't have to go, you can live with me and Thiago and Thaísa and my mom and dad."_

_Cue the bitter laughter that spews from the German as he wipes at his eyes once more with his arm. He has a humorless smile on his lips as he leans his elbows against his bent knees. "I don't think it works that way."_

_"It could?"_

_"But I know it won't."_

_Another wince. He fiddles with his thumbs and watches the actions intently as if it would somehow materialize the answer to this whole scenario. "When do you leave?" He's met with silence. He leans forward on the bleachers in a poor attempt to see his face once more but the blond glances to the side to avert their gaze. "Marc, when do you leave?"_

_"Tomorrow morning."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't post again till Monday since I posted two today ? :3
> 
> Just depends. Lol


	7. good-byes and busted lips ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after that win today, i couldn't NOT post something.
> 
> i mean, let's be real. those goals were amazing, fuck. *_*

     **| Summer before the start of Senior Year. |**

    That was supposed to be exciting for the brunet, comforting even, but he finds himself lounging on the side of the pool kicking his legs back and forth in the cool water with a neutral expression. Somewhere around him Thiago is chattering on with his friends and long-term girlfriend about where he was planning on attending college for the fall, but soon the brunet tunes it all out.

    Losing your best friend and not hearing from them immediately after the move was not comforting in the least. Especially when it still tended to lurk within his thoughts. But Rafinha only sees it as another important person in his life abandoning him without rhyme or reason to. He supposes college is enough reason and that it would suffice but that still didn't make it okay with him.

    His gaze shifts from Thiago and his enthusiastic hand movements to the site of Neymar currently submerged within the clear water, only surfacing when he needs to breathe. Nearly a month after Marc's initial departure the two had reconciled and the hazel-eyed boy had taken the title of 'best friend' once more to his excitement.

    "Rafael, come here and stop sulking. Let me talk to you real quick before I have to go catch my flight," comes a clear voice from behind him, his elder brother dressed to the nine's in a blazer and slacks as well as shiny new dress shoes.

    Rafinha gazes up at him with a small frown but reluctantly climbs to his feet nonetheless. "I don't know what you want me to say, Thi." He keeps his gaze on his feet and refuses to meet his gaze.

    A pair of arms comes to wrap around him in a snug embrace, can feel the pair of lips pressing tenderly into the crown of his head. "I want you to tell me that I'm making the right decision by studying abroad. And that you'll miss me almost as much as I'll miss you, irmão."

    "I'm not mad at you for leaving," mumbles the brunet as he twists his head so his face isn't completely buried in the material of his blazer. "I just wish you could have stayed here in Barcelona for a little while longer before moving to Germany."

    "I'll call you everyday, Rafa, it's not like I'm disappearing forever. I'll be back on holidays when I can and we could always Skype or something. We're not in the nineteenth century, bro."

    Rafinha allots a laugh at then relaxes into the embrace with an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, yeah. Now go get your ass on that plane. And don't do anything I wouldn't do while you're gone."

    Whiskey cues coin him a devious glint but he doesn't comment on it further. Instead he presses a firm kiss to the younger's temple, "If you need anything, I'm only a call away. This is the weirdest part of it all, I'm telling you. The whole wolfing out a random thing and don't even get me started on the hormones."

    "I'm starting to miss you less and less the more you keep talking," muses the brunet who receives a playful scowl in response: "I love you."

    "Love you, too. Take care of that idiot in the pool before he drowns himself, by the way."

    When he shifts on his heel to survey his reasoning behind the comment, he finds the tattooed teen flailing uselessly around within the center of the pool. He rolls his eyes and waves a hand in his general direction before glancing back to offer Thiago a parting smile. Once more the two lean in for another embrace and it lasts as long as it takes for the elder's girlfriend to beckon him over, offering a sympathetic smile to Rafinha.

    Now how was he supposed to spend the remainder of his summer? 

    He doesn't get to ponder the thought as long as he had originally planned to when he gets tackled into the pool by none other than Neymar that laughs the entirety of the way. Droplets of water stick to his eyelashes when he finally surfaces from the deep end to offer an amused chuckle of his own. He attempts to shove the elder underwater, which proves futile, the brunet receiving the same treatment, before the two are wrestling to throw the other into the water.

    Ducking and dodging ensues until the elder manages to gather his flailing form into his arms to toss him back into the deep end. Rafinha coughs as he surfaces then rubs at his eyes, the chlorine nearly blinding him for a minute. He returns to the edge, leaning his elbows on the ledge of the pool. Neymar joins him half a heartbeat later still panting from their earlier antics.

    "There's a party tonight down at that one club.. What's it called again? Whatever, doesn't matter. It's somewhere down the street anyway. But it starts at eleven and ends at five, think mommy dearest would be into letting you go?"

    Rafinha glances at Neymar with a quirked brow then shrugs a shoulder, "Sneaking out is Plan B, isn't it?"

    "I've taught you so well, you've made me proud." Snickers the Brazilian as he maneuvers his arm behind the younger's back, fingers raising to stroke through the thickness of Rafinha's ever growing hair. "So what do you say? You into it?"

    "Depends. You're not gonna shamelessly grind on me again, are you? That death glare I got from Bruna still haunts me. How could someone who looks like that be so intimidating?"

    "I try not to think about it, I think she's still mad about me breaking up with her back in middle school. Now I think she's plotting up ways to kill me."

    "That didn't answer my question."

    Another chuckle spews from the elder teen as he strokes a claw down the back of Rafinha's head to the base of his spine. "I guess it depends on how much you let me drink, princesa."

    "I'll go, okay? But if that weird kid follows me outside one more time, I swear I'm gonna snap. I'll probably need you there to keep me from wolfing out. Could only imagine what story the news would come up with if something like that happened again."

    Thoughtfulness crosses the elder's features momentarily as he stares at the side of Rafinha's face, the brunet taking notice of it and glancing his direction with a quirked brow. "Sorry. But, uh—Dani didn't mean to. That stupid beta Cristiano egged him on."

    Rafinha's lips quirk up into a smile at that, "He kind of deserved it."

    "And with that, I'm gonna go. Geri said he'd pick us up tonight, so be ready ahead of time. Everyone knows how slow you are."

    Rafinha childishly sticks his tongue out at the latter and receives an eye roll in response. The brunet climbs out of the pool and stretches his limbs before he jogs towards the gate that encloses the backyard. He leaves Rafinha alone despite the going-away party still in full swing behind him, the brunet sinking further into the water until it reaches just below his eyes.

    Hours come and go a lot faster than he had originally thought it would, what with family members still over at his house even in the late hour. When he peeks down the stairs, he spots a very bored Thaisa on the couch as she listens to their grandmas and aunts chatter on about when they were young and a variety of other topics that were probably testing the young girl's patience.

    He adjusts the cuffs of his long-sleeved black button-up as he returns to his bedroom, making quick work of the lock, before glancing back towards his closed bedroom door. He instantly regrets wearing his brand new jeans as he climbs out of the window, grateful his bedroom was on the side on the house and away from the commotion his extended family makes.

    The teen easily jumps from the second floor to a tree branch that he swings from for a second before he releases it in favor of falling to the ground. He lands on his feet without much effort then rummages through the bushes towards the neighbor's house where the road is located in between the two houses. He sighs in relief when he spots the dark blue van with a form appearing from the now-opened side door, beckoning him to hurry up.

    Less than twenty-minutes later the group, after making a few more stops here and there for more of their friends, arrive at their designated location. It's already a little past eleven and the parking lot is mostly consumed with a variety of vehicles. So much so that Gerard has to park all the way in the back, the spaces the furthest away from the entrance.

    All the group exits slowly then approaches the bouncer, who looks at them suspiciously, but otherwise allows them entry. Neymar, Rafinha, Dani, and Adriano make a bee-line towards where the bar is located while Shakira escorts her boyfriend, Gerard, to the dance floor where the music is definitely the loudest.

    "Just get me a few shots of whiskey, please."

    Rafinha incredulously looks at the Brazilian, who only chuckles nervously in response. "You said you wouldn't drink that much tonight."

    "We can share? You know I always get six shots anyway, if were split them I shouldn't be that plastered."

    Dani snorts a laugh, "I've seen you drunk over a shot of wine at your house. You're a lightweight."

    Adriano waves the younger teens off then orders an entire bottle, retrieving his wallet to pay for all the drink orders thus far; curse him and his well-paying job. "Seeing Ney drunk is like discovering one of the wonders of the world. Let the kid have some fun, Rafinha."

    When the barista returns with shot glasses, he hastily pours the liquid concoction into them then reaches around for one of the bottles beneath the counter to offer to Adriano. Neymar, however, doesn't falter. As soon as the shot glasses are filled to the brim with the bitter liquid, he's the first to make a grab for one, tilting his head back and allowing the substance to burn down his throat.

    "Meu deus. Klopp, what the hell did you put in this?"

    The middle-aged man's countenance contorts in vague amusement as he leans across the counter, "As the responsible adult here I gave you the best goddamn drink we have. Now drink up." His accent is thick and his Spanish is still relatively poor but he was understandable nonetheless. "No, no. I'm serious." He wags his finger then brings another bottle onto the counter, easily removing the cork, and tilting his head back to swallow it all down until most of it's within his stomach.

    Rafinha's brows furrow as he stares at the bearded man, "How do you even do that? Doesn't that, oh I dunno, burn or something?"

    " _This_?" He raises the half-empty bottle then gives it a shake to slosh the liquid around. "This is like water to me."

    Dani crinkles his nose in disdain then reaching across the counter to steal one of the shot glasses there. He raises the glass, as well as his eyebrows, towards the barista before finally tilting his head back to hurriedly gulp down the liquid. The sound he makes is absolutely disgusted and he actually gags as he attempts to keep the contents down, the flabbergasted look in his eyes directed towards the European.

    "Are you trying to kill us? We're only eighteen." Dani managed to choke out as he motions towards the sink, indicating the tap.

    "If I were trying to kill you lads I'd give you some Everclear. Maybe mix it in with some—Actually, that's a good idea. Any takers?" He points down the line of boys then settles on Adriano once he reaches him on the end. "You look like your life's thoroughly fucked as is, how 'bout it?"

    Rafinha only shakes his head as he looks down the line at his fellow Brazilian who actually appears to be considering it. Dani places a supportive hand on his upper arm, offering it a warning squeeze, but the eldest of the quartet is already raising a finger towards the European. "You're right. Bring it on. Why not? I'm not getting any younger."

    "I dunno. That sounds like death to me, even I wouldn't go for that. And you know I'd try anything twice," warns Neymar who's actually the voice of reason for once.

    "He's right, ya'know. I call it 'liquid death,' myself. But what a way to go."

    It's too late to reason with the eldest teen as the bearded man has already thoroughly prepared it and has set it out before him on the counter. He offers him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before turning his back on them in favor of preparing more drinks for the other people on the far left side of the counter. Wearily, the brunet watches on; the way Adriano is crinkling his nose, eyes rimming with red, and how he coughs when he doesn't even drink but a sip is enough to supply him with the information that this was a terrible idea.

    He turns to Neymar beside him then snatches up a shot himself, swallowing deeply, then tugging on his arm until he complies. The brunet tows him in the direction of the dance floor which Shakira is in the center of clearly working it with a more than amazed Gerard behind her, clapping and cheering her on, and yeah. Those hips? They certainly don't lie.

    'Limbo' plays overheard once the previous song begins to fizzle out and already Neymar is getting a feel for it. It takes Rafinha wavering from foot to foot before he, too, is moving to the music. He swallows a chuckle at the sight of the shimmying Brazilian before him whose hips are moving in tandem. Eventually he takes it a step further until their bodies are moving against the other, the hazel-eyed teen more than pleased with the results.

    Soon that song ends as well and the song 'Bailando' starts to play. Neymar places his hands on the younger's waist as he moves his hips against his. Rafinha is far too busy laughing at the focused facial expression on the elder boy to even begin to care about the position the two find themselves in. At the end of the day it's all in good fun anyway, so he doesn't mind even as he slips a thigh in between both of Rafinha's.

    Maybe it's the heat of the bodies that are constantly pressing against him as he moves with Neymar or maybe he just needs a break. He leans forward and presses his lips against Neymar's ear, "I'll be back in ten, I need some air outside." 

    When he turns, his arm is caught by the elder, who's hazel hues are wide with concern. "Hey? I'll go with you."

    Rafinha smiles appreciatively but shakes him off nonetheless then points to the entrance door where he would be. Moving through the throng of gyrating bodies proved more difficult than he had originally thoughts, so he detours outside of a side door that leads him into the alleyway between the club and another building. He sighs at the coolness of the night air then walks towards one of the overhanging lights of the building before he leans back against the brick wall.

    Before he knows it, a fist collides with his jaw, sending his head thudding roughly back against the bricks. He groans at the pain that resonates there, teeth clenching tightly, as he presses off the wall to attack the person dressed entirely in black before him. He fights the claws that threaten to rip from the skin at his fingertips as he shoves the person away from him.

    "Honestly, I knew I would regret coming," murmurs the brunet as he steadily makes his back towards that side door. "I just didn't think I'd get randomly beat up in the alley as my punishment." But no sound emits from the figure who is cloaked in a dark hoodie that covers the majority of his face. Uncertain of who it is and why they had particularly targeted him, he holds his hands up defensively. "Look: I don't want to hurt you, whoever you are, and whatever it is, I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. If my friend Adriano got drunk and punched you or something, I apologize on his behalf. Just go away before I hurt you."

    Then he hears a scoff and a deep voice, "You don't scare me." The brunet furrows his brows as that, momentarily halting.

    "I'm just trying to help you," reasons the Brazilian as he continues to walk backwards, the door nearly one-hundred feet away.

    But as soon as he shifts on his foot to make a run for it, he's grabbed by the arm and slung against the wall. A pair of pale hands pin his own against the wall from behind, the cool form behind him pressing into the contours of his body. "Come with me."

    Enough playing nice, muses the brunet, as he releases a warning growl. This time he doesn't speak, however, and instead thrusts his head back into the latter's until he hears a hiss. He allows his claws to penetrate the skin of his fingers and allows his eyes to flicker to a light blue. The person, whoever it was, swipes at his nose before the two run towards each other.

    Fists are flying and exchanged in a flurry of movements that are barely discernible to the human eye. That's when the young wolf discovers that he wasn't dealing with a human at all, no. Not another wolf either, so not a turf war. He growls then delivers three swift punches to the figure's covered face only to be kneed in the abdomen then kicked sending him flying back towards the wall where he crouches to block a swinging arm.

    From his position on the grimy ground, he slides his foot from underneath him to trip the figure, sending him stumbling but not early enough to fall. Instead he manages to dodge a shoe flying in his direction but fails to dodge the fist that connects with his mouth, ultimately busting his lip. He tastes the bitter tang of metallic as he coughs, swiping at his lips nonchalantly. He raises his fists before him then circles the figure who repeats the action until they halt.

    He hears a peculiar sound then sees the figure tilt their head back. Thin lips part to reveal fangs that glisten within the faint light overhead, a tongue making an appearance to swipe along the elongated teeth. Hesitantly, the figure takes a step back and then another until the person is off in a hurry down the alleyway.

    "What the hell was that about?" 

    Rafinha utters another cough as he hunches forward, leaning to grip onto his knees for support. The wind was surely kicked out of him and he takes a moment to regain his breath. He lifts a hand to gingerly prod at the split skin of his lip, retracting his hand to see the crimson droplets of blood gathered there, then presses his tongue against the slit to seal it. 

    That's not the worst of his problems though, he has a pulsing headache from hell and his jaw is sore but not broken in any way. He hears no semblance of a heartbeat as he stares after the retreating figure then furrows his brows. That was definitely not normal of his species nor a human, he would have to tell his parents about it eventually.

    When he returns back inside his lip is fully sealed, save for the redness that still lingers on the corner of his mouth. His eye is still darkened, however, and he hopes that no curious eyes linger on him for too long. He doesn't see Neymar on the dance floor any longer so he returns to the bar where he finds the vast majority of his friends laughing and still sporting drinks.

    He stands behind Neymar and leans forward with his hands on the back of his chair, "I'll tell you later. But can we go home, please? Just call a cab."

    When he glances back to question the words spewing from the latter, he's greeted with the sight of a bruised face then frowns. "Who kicked your ass?" He questions but rises from his seat nonetheless to push him in the direction of the entrance door. All the while his fingers are retrieving his phone to call the aforementioned cab. 

    "I think we have a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. A little underage drinking is fun (even though I'm 19, and I don't do that. But yolo.)


	8. tale of the fangs ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing like crazy, like, wow. This is the most muse I've had for anything lately. (Plus that win Sunday really got me going~ WooOOooOOOoooo~ Hollaaaaa )

    Waking up with a pounding headache was not what the brunet had pictured as ideal. It felt like an earthquake had been unleashed within his mind to mercilessly torture him. Mornings were bad, yeah, but never were they this bad. He vaguely remembers the night before; Thiago had left, Neymar had convinced him to go to a party, and—oh, yeah. He had been assaulted by a random stranger.

    That enough sent him surging upward in bed, hands gripping into the sheets, as he allows his eyes to adjust to the bright light peering in front the opened window. He nearly panics when he doesn't recognize the familiar sheets of his bed nor the photos that lined his wall but was reassured when Neymar strolls through the door with a piece of toast hanging out the side of his mouth along with a tray of bacon and other breakfast foods.

    "I know that look," murmurs the Brazilian around the toast. He sets the tray down on the sheets nonchalantly then chews on the remainder of the toast before offering a chuckle: "That's the 'where the hell am I' look."

    Rafinha raises his middle finger but smiles graciously when he stares down at the food before him. And, yeah, he should probably be embarrassed by the lurching sound his stomach makes when he eyes it all. "Long night. I almost forgot where I was, but I remember now. I went home with you, right?"

    "We had sex, too. Do you remember that?"

    He breaks a piece of bacon off and tosses it with no real intent at the snickering Brazilian. "That's not funny. Stop being a dick. It's already hard to think with this headache. I don't even remember drinking but I feel hungover as hell."

    "After that major ass-kicking you got, I figured I should make you laugh." Neymar states as he plops unceremoniously onto the bed, snatching up another few pieces of toast then stabbing at the eggs. "About that, you told me you'd tell me what happened. So go for it."

    How could he possibly begin to describe what had occurred the night before when he didn't even have a name or a face to his unknown attacker? "I really don't know.. I went out for some air in the alley and some guy? Or I think it was a guy? Whatever. Someone just randomly punched me and it's not like I wanted to fight. I tried to walk away, I'm not like you." He throws another piece of bacon at him, "I don't fight just because I can. Anyway, I told them that I'm not the person to mess with, but they're not—They weren't human."

    "What do you mean not human? Like, wolf-man type of not human? Or?"

    "I don't know, man. That's the thing. I thought shapeshifter too but even we have heartbeats."

    Neymar chews thoughtfully on his toast and the two lapse into silence. Once more the brunet allows his mind to wander to the possibilities. It's not like there were a list of creatures thriving in the Barcelona heat, let alone any other type of paranormal beings minus werewolves. But then he thinks back to his home in Brazil and of the untold war happening in its many cities—the story that his parents had told him, the reason they had moved to Spain.

    He tries to think of exactly what the two had said while the four of them were packing for the move. Or was it even a war at all? Nothing is making sense to him but then he thinks of the story his grandfather had told him of the one's with pointed teeth and a need to sate their unquenchable thirst. Certainly they couldn't exist? Not when he had been alive a full seventeen years now.

    Why would they come now? But, no. He mentally pushes the thought away because he wasn't even certain as what he had actually seen in the first place. Not in the fast-paced minutes that it had all occurred. He's too disorientated right now to even piece the clips of the night together so he heaves a sigh then takes a sip of the juice on the tray.

    "Any ideas? I was thinking some type of super zombie?"

    "You're an idiot."

    "Like I haven't heard that one before," murmurs the Brazilian with a roll of his eyes.

    Rafinha's jaw clenches then loosens then repeats. "What about vampires?"

    Neymar hisses at that then darts a hand across the tray to cover the younger's mouth. "My parents and Rafaella could be up, don't say that aloud like that."

    He bites at the hand still covering his mouth until it's removed with a startled yelp. "It's just—that's the only logical explanation? They busted my lip and it was bleeding, that's when they left." 

    "Now who's the idiot? Vampires like blood, stupid, so if that's what it was then you would have been a goner."

    He utters a groan then falls back on the bed, gently rocking the tray and tipping over the juice, that the latter manages to right before it spills everywhere. "That's why I'm so frustrated, Ney. I don't know what is is and I don't know what I saw. I'll have to tell my parents, they'll know."

    Almost instantaneously he feels the bed shifting until he can practically see the eyes staring at him intensely behind his lids. "You can't tell them."

    He opens an eye to stare at the latter, "Why not? This could be serious."

    "Because if it's really nothing then we've worried them for nothing. Plus investigating ourselves seems a helluva lot more fun than getting everyone else involved."

    "So what? You wanna be the real life Teen Wolf?"

    "Nah, that was lame. Trust me, I've seen it all. Definitely not worth it."

    Blindly, the Brazilian darts a hand out to swat at the latter who only bats his hand away and out of his face. "Please stop talking." 

    "Only if you promise not to tell your folks."

    "So what do you suppose we do then, Juninho?"

    All of a sudden the Brazilian is crawling off the bed in favor snatching up his cell phone that vibrates ecstatically upon his dresser. He reads whatever is on the screen then coins a smirk back at an inquisitive Rafinha. The currently blond-haired Neymar tosses the phone toward the younger, gives a second to read it, then busies himself with rummaging through his dresser drawers for a fresh pair of clothing.

    The younger boy looks at the texts then halfheartedly tosses the device across the sheets. He releases a low groan as he worms out of bed, picking up the tray, then placing it on the nightstand. He catches the dark v-neck shirt as well as a pair of shorts then sets them on the pillow beside him. Neymar nods his head in the direction of the shower, excusing himself, leaving the brunet alone with his thoughts once more.

    Involving the rest of their friends was the last thing that he had wanted, but it was too late to change it now. Soon the rest of the boys would know, as well as a select few girlfriends, and they would have to face whatever potential threat alone without the use of the adults in the pack. He hears loud and obnoxious singing in the bathroom and it temporarily reels him out of his thoughts.

    He reaches for his phone on the nightstand beside the lamp and checks his own text messages; there are none, surprisingly. So he proceeds to unlock his phone and sifts through his contacts until he finds one number in particular that had no use anymore. It was the number that belonged to Marc, or specifically Marc's parents.

    Texts had been sent daily for the past few years with no legitimate responses from the family. It was like they had up and mysteriously disappeared when they had left Barcelona to wherever they would now call home. He decides that maybe it's time to finally delete it, as well as forget the memories he had formed with the German in the process.

    In his distraction he receives a damp towel over his head which is preceded by the sight of a fully nude Neymar sauntering towards where his clothes rest of the dresser. "Do you always have to walk around naked?"

    The Brazilian turns around after snatching up his shirt then tugs it up and above his head in one swift movement. "Do you always have to stare so hard?" His bare cock bounces as he turns to snatch up a pair of briefs from his open drawer. 

    Russet cheeks flush considerably as he averts his gaze from the latter's cock in favor of snatching up the clothing on the nightstand. "Merdinha," murmurs the lad as he brushes past the elder in favor of the bathroom.

-

    Later on that evening, after pit stops of going to a nearby gaming center and eating some lunch, the boys make their towards the park by foot. Mindless chatter is exchanged by the two as they approach a decent-sized gazebo with most the seats on the benches already occupied by the rest of their group of friends; also known as the majority of the football team at their high school.

    Dani, who must have randomly decided to cut his hair upon returning to his house, is the first to notice them walking up and motions them onward. "Even with the speed of a wolf, you two are still the slowest out of the pack."

    Gerard snorts his amusement and gently strokes the tanned skin of Shakira's arm, the sandy-brown haired dancer not desiring to enter the banter-session. "Ironic you're the one who interrupted my date then happened to be the last one to show."

    Before anyone else can chime in on their annoyance, Neymar opens his mouth to speak: "Technically not my fault. Rafa took an hour shower then wanted to eat."

    Another blue-eyed companion rubs drowsily at his eyes, the boy looking as if he had just awoken an hour prior to arriving. "Rafa, you suck. I was sleeping in for once."

    But the brunet doesn't speak even once as he settles on one of the benches next to the boy who had just complained about his tardiness. He motions a russet hand to Neymar, who is arguably the loudest, to do all of the explaining. Gazes flicker between the older Brazilian and the younger as he motions wildly back and forth with his hands. He's practically snickering when he describes the lacerations he had received last night but gets solemn when describing the figure with the lack of heartbeat and pointed fangs.

    Everyone seems to be paying the utmost attention now as the Brazilian thoroughly describes everything. Granted he can practically hear the questions that would soon be directed toward him. Despite the elder attempting to say everything he has to offer, he knows that the pack would want to hear his side, want to know his reasoning for why things went down as they had.

    Which is exactly what happens once the hazel-eyed teen finishes, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table. Almost instantaneously he hears a series of questions being directed toward him and he takes it all one by one: "Why do you think vampires? There are none here in Barcelona." That's Shakira, who is holding onto Gerard's hand in a vice grip.

    All eyes are once more on him and he squirms beneath the intensity of it all. "It can't be anything else, not that I know of, at least."

    Sergi fiddles with his thumbs on the table, nibbling anxiously at his lower lip, before raising his voice too. "Are we safe then? I've never heard my parents talk about vampires before, but now all of a sudden they're here?"

    "Yeah, I'm with him. Who the hell did you piss off, Rafa?" That was Dani. Everyone else leans curiously inward to hear his explanation.

    Chestnut hues meet each individual for a thoughtful moment but he isn't certain how to answer. "I don't know, okay? I don't know. That's what I'm—" He pauses mid-sentence to make eye-contact with Neymar, "We're trying to figure out. Why me? It could have been any of us, but it's me it wanted."

    An amused snort garners everyone's attention: "Maybe it has a crush?" Like that the tension between the group seems to fade into a fit of giggles and laughter.

    As ludicrous as it is, he sees no other meaningful explanations for it all. But he laughs along with the rest of the group nonetheless. If easing the tension between the group would be beneficial and allow them to leave in peace then so be it. He hadn't even wanted to share the information in the first place but as always, the elder teen always operated on impulse, not daring to think about the consequences of his actions. Which was probably why he ended up in as much trouble as he tended to.

    "I'm not worried about it," smooth Spanish spews from the the only girl among the group as she smiles up at her long-term boyfriend. "There's only one of them and so many of us. Whatever it is, we can handle it." She leans forward to peck Gerard, who deepens it, earning a chorus of disgusted sounds from the rest of the group.

    "Fuck you all, you're just jealous." 

    Another round of laughter fills the brunet's ears but the sight doesn't turn his stomach in the slightest. In fact: he desires to have a long-term relationship just like theirs. Someone that knew all of his secrets and wouldn't dare turn their back on him because he wouldn't do it to them. While everyone else emerges in a different conversational topic, since the whole explanation process only took thirty-minutes, he remains focused on his hands within his lap.

    Lately he seemed to think more and more about the blond that had left back on that sweltering hot November day. All he remember about that day was the dismal look on the blond's face; how his eyes still remained glassy and how he had tried to force a smile onto his lips. Rafinha, however, had managed to maintain a broad grin despite everything. But he had cried too once the moving truck and their family's car had finally gone out of sight. 

    Talk about angst.

    Neymar must have noticed his distant look based on the way he switches spots with Sergi. The Brazilian wraps his arms around his waist and tugs him close, which isn't peculiar to their any group of friends since the lad was always the most handsy. He rests his chin on Rafinha's shoulder, frowning slightly.

    "I know that look, too."

    "Stop—just don't. I'm okay, it's not what you think."

    The latter sighs but releases all hold on the younger teen though he does brush his fingers absently along the latter's. "We'll get through this. Together. Promise." He unconsciously shifts his fingers so his pinkie folds over Rafinha's, offering him a reassuring smile.

    No one knew how much he despised promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters are gonna be short or long, just depends on the contents, i guess ?
> 
> lemme know how i'm doing ? :3 <3 xx


	9. throne of lies ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another chappie, just don't be mad at me. lol :3

    Everything is relatively quiet the next few days which is a welcomed relief for the brunet. School was tiresome in and of itself but he would rather deal with that hassle than this possible life or death one. He had remained distant from his friends those three days, ignoring texts and letting calls to his phone go to the answering machine.

    Concerned voices were heard nightly before he went to bed but it assured him that at least his friends had him in their thoughts. Even so, he refused to call them back, didn't have the strength to do so. His quietness hadn't gone unnoticed just by his friends either, the first one's to notice had been his parents who had practically cornered him that afternoon after he had finished watching a football match on the television.

    Thaisa had been watching it along with him with a small Bruno sat contently beside her, the little boy making cooing noises and pointing to his favorite players every once in a while. But she had been asked to leave once his parents had entered the room along with the youngest of the Alcantara clan. She had cast him a wary look but had obliged her parent's wishes nonetheless, sparing him a parting and good luck look over her shoulder as she went to her bedroom.

    He barely shifts from his lounging position as his father sits near his head while his mother occupies the space near his feet, swatting at them until he draws his legs up. He heaves a sigh, "Usually you're telling me to stay out of trouble, not getting onto me for not getting into trouble."

    Valeria places a hand upon his calf muscle and offers him a weary look, her eyes tired and her lips twisted into a small frown. "Something is bothering you, meu amor. It's not like you to ignore your friends but especially Neymar. You're aware he's come over more times than I can count these past couple of days?"

    Mazinho looks upon his son with a stern, disapproving shake of his head. "And look at this, have you looked in a mirror lately? I'm a fan of the scruffy look but not this," he pats his son's cheek, the brunet crinkling his nose in disdain and shifting away from the invasive hand.

    Bless his parents and their intuitiveness but he didn't need this type of attention right now. "It's like you guys want me to go out and become a drunkard." Murmurs the teenager as he grabs a pillow to place over his head.

    He can feel rather than see his mother lean over him to snatch the pillow away, tossing it toward the floor unceremoniously. "We just want you to be your normal self again. This—this isn't you Rafael. What would Thiago say if he saw you looking like this?"

    That hit a cord within the brunet and he has to clench his eyes shut to avoid the invasive questions about the shift of his eye color. But they're his parents and had a keen sense of smell as well, even if they had all vowed not to use that sense to their advantage. Russet fingers go to his already too-long locks to tug gently on them until he feels the burn of his scalp. He directs those hands toward his mother then, looking at her with hurt chestnut orbs.

    "Thiago's not here.. And what could he say? He was mostly a hermit through high school too until he met Julia. Meu deus. Is this your way of trying to hook me up with some she wolf like Bruna? If so, I'm fine the way I am, mamãe. No need to worry about my love life." 

    Mazinho huffs out a breath at that then attempts to reel in the smile that undoubtedly flickers onto his lips at that. "That's not my issue with this, though I can't say the same for your mom. I just think you should get out of the house more. It's summer holiday and Thaisa has been out of the house more than you have since the whole thing started."

    "No, no. Maz, I don't think it's that." Her eyes narrow inquisitively as she makes eye contact with the brunet who is attempting not to break the contact in fear she might notice something she shouldn't. She hesitates before she speaks once more, "Are you keeping secrets from us?"

    Shit, shit, shit. He should have known he couldn't possibly keep something this big from his mother of all the people in his life. Hell, he had even told Neymar who was notorious for spilling secrets versus his parents who would possibly gain more from the information. It takes all of him not to cringe at the thought that he had revealed something so important to his friends before he had even mentioned it to his family. But he attempts to play it off with a smile.

    "I'm not, mamãe. I just miss Thi a lot more than I thought I would. It's weird waking up and not seeing him at the breakfast table, I guess. He said he would call a few days ago too but he hasn't yet, I guess he's busy or something." He would burn in hell for lying to the people who were nothing but honest to him since he was birthed.

    His father seems to buy the story and only nods his understanding. "Your mother still makes four plates for you all, I think she needs some time to adjust too."

    Chestnut hues shift to his mother with a sympathetic smile as he reaches out for her hand, offering it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay, mamãe. You still have me, and I'm your favorite son, remember?"

    "Oh, hush." She uses her free hand to absently wipe at her eyes. "When you graduate next year, my nest will be halfway empty."

    Mazinho ruffles Rafinha's unruly locks fondly before he rises from the couch, reaching out for his wife once he straightens up. "We'll leave you alone but if you ever need to talk to us about anything, and I mean anything Rafael, you know we're here for you."

    Once the two are safely out of earshot, at least far enough where they wouldn't intrude and hear him clearly, he releases an outstretched sigh. Soon he's joined once more by Thaisa who smiles at him sadly, his little sister having heard the entirety of the conversation based on her glassy eyes. Little Bruno is completely oblivious and is reaching for the remote once she sits down next to Rafinha. He instinctively goes to wrap his arms around her in a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of her head; it was a gesture that Thiago insisted on doing even despite their age.

    "I miss him too," whispers the brunette as she wipes at her eyes. She leans into the embrace and buries her face within the crook of his neck. Little Bruno is handing the remote control to the only Alcantara sister but she doesn't acknowledge him, instead the child offering it to Rafinha, who smiles at him.

    Sometimes he wishes that he could be a more honest man. Or at least honest when it came to his family. Not that it would change anytime soon, not when he was trying to keep them all safe. He wasn't certain of what he would do if something ever happened to the number one titleholders in his life. He would try his damnest to protect them even if it meant he would get hurt in the process.

-

    Later on that night, after dodging more persistent questions from his parents, he had told them he was going to bed early. That was another lie, of course, and since he had told one the ones preceding it were nearly effortless. Instead he had changed into a pair of joggers and a worn white t-shirt with some comfortable sneakers before heading to his window once more.

    As silently as possible he fiddles with the latch, easing it open slowly—though he freezes when it squeaks on its hinges—, until finally it's open and a cool breeze flows into the humid room. He goes through with his usual routine until he's on the ground, sparing a glance back up to his window, then releasing a sigh.

    He decides to go for a walk in the city for at least an hour before heading back to the club to investigate. If keeping everyone out of it meant going out on his own, then so be it. Hands are shoved deep within his pockets as he strolls down the sidewalk until he meets the neon lights of store signs in town. He glances around at some of the shops still open, stomach grumbling as he passes by a doughnut shop that would close in less than ten minutes, but continues on his trek.

    It's nearly vacant as he walks save for a few couples dining outside of shops at quaint tables or the occasional streetwalker positioned at a corner. He smiles to himself as one woman waves in his general direction then beckons him to her with a finger but he politely declines. He chooses to walk the opposite way then and back towards where the club was located when he feels the presence of another behind him.

    But he doesn't glance back to let it be known, instead he continues walking until he finds a secluded and empty parking lot. Then he turns around abruptly but meets nothing but the darkness of the night, to which he furrows his brows at, at least until he's captured in a choke-hold. He gags to himself and is coughing as he fights to get out of it, but his captor is far too tall and large, and he finds himself struggling.

    He gulps deeply and leans forward back into his captor's chest then abruptly thrust his body forward until the form is sent flying over him to roll along the concrete. He tilts his head until he hears a satisfactory crack then repeats the action with the opposing side before he strolls toward the form currently kneeling on the ground, crouching to himself.

    "You don't have to do this, y'know. We could just be friends. I don't know what I did to you, but I'm sorry."

    But the form is pushing itself off the concrete once more, rolling their shoulders back, before turning to face Rafinha once more. "You know what you did to me." Is all he says before he's full-stride and throwing rapid-fire punches that the brunet manages to dodge, even so much as capturing his arm, then twisting it until it cracks.

    He hears the hiss then notes the way the perpetrator, who's without a doubt the same as before if the voice is anything to go by, cradles his arm to his chest. "Unless you're referring to that then I don't know what you're talking about," murmurs Rafinha who cringes at the sound of the 'crack!' as the latter snaps it back into place then shakes the arm out.

    Chestnut eyes notice the familiar glint of fangs in the glow of the moonlight and he manages a groan. If he could get that hood from off his head he could figure out the identity of his unknown pursuer. So he lifts his fists before him once more, eyes pointedly staring at the hood, then circling the male once more. He does the same but ultimately makes the first move that the young wolf is already expecting, grabbing him by the elbows then spinning him around until his arms are wound around his torso.

    But also as expected, the perp puts up a fight. He kicks one of his legs backward until he hits Rafinha's shins, he hisses but doesn't let him go, instead tightening his hold. Having mimicked the brunet's actions the first fight, the hooded figure sends his skull backwards until he hits Rafinha in the nose, the brunet finally releasing him again to prod at the tender flesh.

    He stumbles back a few steps with wide, pleading eyes as he stares at the hooded figure. "Just tell me what you're talking about then we can settle this like normal people. Please, meu deus. I can't take much more of this." He pleads as he holds a hand out before him as if asking for truce.

    "You took someone I love away from me," suddenly the voice seems to gain some semblance of emotion that it had been previously lacking as it pulls back the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbow exposing smooth, pale skin.

    "I didn't, look—I'd never hurt anybody."

    "Then that makes you a liar," murmurs the hooded figure as he flexes his fingers before wrapping them around the young wolf's neck, squeezing him tightly until he's gasping for air.

    But no, that sounded like—but that couldn't be because—.. Because there's no way that voice could be so familiar after all this time. He kicks his legs uselessly then maneuvers a hand to punch at the hooded face until finally the hood is knocked off his head to reveal hair shaved off the side with neatly styled blond hair slicked back in the center. And those eyes—he would never forget those eyes nor that shade of perfect ocean-blue.

    Bitter laughter spews from the brunet as he allows his eyes to flutter to a content close. "You—fuck, you always said you d-didn't ma-make promises y-you c-c-couldn't keep," croaks the brunet as he grips weakly at the fingers still grasping tightly to his neck.

    Something inside the figure clicks, however, as the fingers loosen slightly and then completely a moment later. Brows furrow tightly together on the latter's countenance and he's stumbling backwards, his large pale hands trembling as he does so. Clear blue eyes flicker from one hand to the other as if he couldn't believe what he had been about to do. Then those eyes are flickering to his face once more, the brunet falling down to the ground, choking as he gasps for air, russet hands going to his neck.

    "R-rafa..?"

    But Rafinha can't speak and he isn't sure if it's because he had been teetering on the edge of death or because he's literally choked up—if he wasn't feeling so lightheaded and dizzy he probably would have laughed at such dark humor, something that was completely unlike him. He can't meet the latter's intense gaze either as he leans forward with his palms digging into the cement, still choking and gasping breathlessly.

    Before he knows it he's falling weakly onto his side in a heap of limbs. All he sees before his vision goes completely black is the sight of the twinkling stars up above him that are meant to reassure him, he muses. If he was going to die he was more than content that it was beneath the stars in the part of town where they were actually visible. 

    Then everything fades to black and his mind temporarily shuts down just as the rest of his body does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... el fin ...
> 
> .. i'm just kidding, but i betcha didn't see that coming, huh .. ?


	10. latched ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just sort of roughly browsed through this, so if there's any mistakes, just lemme know and i'll fix it ? :3

    It's early the next morning when the brunet jolts up within the comfort of a bed. He gasps sharply when he finally retches up within the bed, hands grasping wildly at the sheets around him, gaze going to his still-open window that allows the sun's vibrant rays to enter his room. Eyes clench immediately shut at the glaring sun for a considerate moment before he has the vision to glance around the room.

    It's undeniably his and nothing is out of place, at least at first glance. Everything was in its rightful place as he slowly looks over his room once more, that's when his gaze lands on his wall of photographs that consist of his family as well as his closest friends. One of the picture frames of one blond has mysteriously disappeared with the frame resting on his desk near the computer's mouse-pad.

    He rubs tiredly at his eyes then goes to yawn only to find his throat still raw from the night before. He clenches his eyes tightly shut once more which sends the images of the night prior flashing behind his lids. He winces as he recalls the polished features of the blond that had left those years ago; pointed teeth, brighter eyes that still somehow possessed a dullness he couldn't quite place, a more sculpted jaw and a new hairstyle.

    There was no way that was the Marc he had fallen in love with as a child. He buries his face within his hands and feels the familiar prick of tears at the back of his eyes. Then he thinks back to what he had said in that lifeless voice of his; something about taking away someone that he loved. But he had done nothing of the sort and would never hurt someone like that, so what did he mean? It had been years since he had even seen Marc or his family, so what made him believe otherwise? 

    Russet hands are scratching at his beard contemplatively but comes up empty as he suspected he would. He hears footfalls approach his room, halting for a moment, before the door is swinging upon on its hinges to reveal his mother standing there with a cup of water and a tiny pill.

    "I heard you all last night, it sounded like you were swallowing nails. I hope you're not coming down with something even though we really don't get sick." He watches her move from the door to his bed where she sits down upon. She hands off the pill as well as the cool glass with a small smile. "Are you sure you're okay?"

    When she raises one of her hands to touch him, he immediately grabs it, then gulps deeply. "Sorry, it's just—just a reflex, I'm sorry," rasps the teenager as he graciously pops the pill within his mouth then downing it with the liquid.

    Valeria frowns to herself, "Something is wrong and you're going to tell me soon. Or maybe you'll tell Neymar, he camped out on the porch last night till this morning. You were, well, howling in your sleep and I suppose at least one of the members of your pack heard."

    "He should have just came in through the window, it was open all last night, wasn't it?" He managed to croak to which he receives a perplexed look from his mother.

    "Funny. Neymar said it was latched all last night... Come to think of it, you do smell a little.. Off.. For lack of better word. What have you gotten into lately?"

    Now it was his turn to look perplexed as he glances from the sight of his concerned mother toward the window that was opened still. Another breeze blows in from the window to ruffle his disheveled locks, the brunet reaching a hand upward to rake through his mane. He looks back to his mother then and shrugs a halfhearted shoulder then plays it off with a small smile.

    "I guess that explains why it's so hot in here," states the brunet as he goes to grasp the collar of his shirt to air himself out a bit. But all he meets is bare skin and he instead proceeds to scratch awkwardly at his collar bone. 

    "You're being weird again, meu amor." 

    Rafinha just chuckles nervously as he removes the comforter from around his waist to find his joggers still in tact albeit dirtied from his fall yesterday on the cement. "Um, hey. I'm gonna go shower then you can send Neymar in while I'm in the bathroom. He probably needs one himself from staying on the porch all night like a lost puppy." 

    Valeria seems satisfied enough with the response then raises her hand wince more, to which the brunet doesn't cringe at, to stroke along the side of his bearded face. "Please shave while you're in the bathroom, darling. Wolf or not, this is unacceptable." 

    For once the brunet offers a genuine smile as he places a hand over his mother's, stroking the smooth skin there with the pad of his thumb. "Only for you."

    With that the woman leans forward to place a tender kiss to his temple before hesitantly straightening from the bed. She strolls toward the door but pauses in the frame, she glances back at him over her shoulder with a parting smile, then finally leaves the room to find Neymar who was probably somewhere in the kitchen eating all the breakfast she had made that morning; at least four plates today wouldn't be in vain.

    It takes little to no time to shower, the dirt and grime from the night before sliding easily from his body to trail down into the drain. He reaches for the shaving cream he keeps on one of the columns on the side of the shower and applies a generous amount to his face then proceeds to shave it off with the razor he keeps tucked somewhere within there. When he finishes he feels his face curiously then sighs at the softness of his skin, at least he wouldn't look like a stereotypical wolf-man anymore. Next would surely be a haircut by none other than his mother.

    Once finally out of the bathroom, with a towel secured snugly around his waist, he enters his room to find a suspicious looking Neymar sitting on the edge of his bed. Almost immediately he hops to his feet though his hazel eyes unconsciously slide to take in the sight of his bare chest. "Something's wrong, Rafa. I know it, your mom knows it. Spill it—.. Come here." 

    Like that the Brazilian is approaching him to graze the pad of his thumb along his lower lip where another healing cut is located, the brunet winces beneath his administrations. "Will you stop that, meu deus." He swats at the prodding hand then brushes past him toward his dresser to find something suitable to wear.

    "I knew it, Rafa. I felt that something wasn't right but I told myself I was just being paranoid. But then I heard you howling last night and I came to check on you but your window was locked. _Locked_ , Rafa. You never lock your window at night." Neymar is practically blubbering as he comes up behind the brunet to place a hand gently at his waist until he turns around to face him.

    "I'm fine, Ney. You're just overreacting. I just fell out of bed last night and hit my face on the floor, nothing serious." There was no way he could tell the elder that the person who had been trying to kill him was none other than his first love. 

    "That makes you a liar, Rafinha." Said boy winces at then compares the first time he had heard those words from Marc to last night; tone's so different one wouldn't believe they belonged to the same person. "—and you're not a liar."

    He heaves a sigh as he swats the hand still at his waist away in favor of tugging a freshly laundered shirt over his head, smoothing it down his toned abdomen, before gazing at the elder once more. Even his mother knew he was lying even if she feigned oblivious; she knew and was waiting for him to be ready to tell her. But now he couldn't, not when it involved Marc. The brunet then rummages through his things to retrieve a pair of boxers versus briefs for more comfort, which he manages to tug on from beneath the shield of his towel.

    Instead of blatantly lying, he confesses: "I went out last night alone and I picked a fight with that crazy guy from before. I broke his arm and I think he broke my nose, but what do you know?" He reaches for Neymar's hand and makes him prod at the tender flesh there: "It's already healed and I'm okay." Even if his heart wasn't. "Stop worrying, you're worse than my mom sometimes." 

    "But I care about you in a different way than she does, princesa." Once more those hands are shifting from his nose to his lips, brushing the pad of his thumb along the lower, hazel eyes staring pointedly into widened chestnut. "You know that."

    He feels the need to wet his chapped lips but can't due to the fingers still gliding along his lower. So instead he stares at the latter back until he offers an apologetic smile then gazes away to scratch at the side of his head. Rafinha doesn't know what to think as he discards the towel in its rightful hamper then digs through his things once more to toss some of his clothing towards Neymar; he may be wider body-wise but surely his clothes would fit the still-lanky teen.

    The Brazilian takes the clothes graciously then goes to Rafinha's closet to fetch one of the clean towels. He heads for the bathroom but halts by the door, "You know how I feel about you, Rafa. I've been waiting for you for years now, y'know." He offers a half-smile then taps his fingers on the door for a moment. "Just think about me—about us."

    That was what he was afraid of hearing. Of course he had semblance of feelings for the brunet, even dared to say he had harbored a crush on him for quite sometime, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to move forward in his current situation. He runs his fingers through his still damp locks that were in dire need of a cut then strolls toward where his desk is, fingers brushing along the picture frame there. What he finds in the picture frame is a note that is addressed to him, his brows furrowing tightly as he glances from the door of his bedroom then towards the occupied bathroom.

    Fingers are swift to turn the frame over to retrieve the small slip of paper that is barely eligible as if written in a rush. Too afraid of possibly being caught, he gathers the note then shoves it within one of the desks drawers for security. He aimlessly paces his room as he thinks of what he's going to do about his current situation seeing as lies got him here in the first place; he really needs to keep a track record of the lies he tells or else he was bound to get caught up one day.

    He's so encased in thought that he doesn't hear the bathroom door open silently on its hinges nor does he notice the brunet that stops him from pacing. He blinks in realization but it's far too late to prevent the lips that are pressing harshly against his own, the dull throb of his healing wound splitting open. He can taste the tange of blood as he allows the kiss and eventually finds himself reciprocating.

    Elongated canine's sink into his lower lip and he finds himself moaning at the sensations it stirs within his boxers as the action is repeated. His claws are already fully extended as he digs them into the back of Neymar's head, holding him in place as he kisses him fervently, all the pent-up tension from the last few years exiting his form.

    Fingers are sliding beneath his shirt to caress the smooth skin there while russet hands are yanking the thin hair at the back of Neymar's neck. He hears the growls echoing from the elder as he presses his lips more insistently against his own until he's working his lips open to nip and suck eagerly at his tongue.

    Selfishly the brunet finds himself thinking back to Marc and the rough way he had been handled the night before; something so similar in his movements now to the actions that occurred yesterday. There had always been electric tension between the blond and brunet since the day they had met and even the night prior when the two had been fighting it out. If he wasn't in immediate danger, he probably would have been sickly turned on.

    "Rafa, bed.." Neymar is breathing in between fierce kisses as he sends the two backwards until his back hits the bed.

    That's when it becomes all too real for the brunet who is placing his palms against the latter's bare chest, pressing against him to stop. He does. Rafinha gazes up at him with an apologetic smile as he attempts to regain his breath as well as composure. "I don't think now is the best time to do.. This. Whatever this is." 

    Dejected. The look that crosses Neymar's countenance is dejected as he places a final kiss to those reddened and thoroughly bitten lips. "I love you, Rafa. I couldn't take it anymore, fuck. I've waited for you since the sixth grade but you wouldn't even look my way because—because of—.. Never mind." He crawls off his form then sits on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

    He gulps deeply then sits up himself to press a reassuring hand against his knee. "No, no I get it. This is sort of like that time when Bruna kissed you in front of everyone and declared that you were her future husband. Swear you had a boner then, too." Rafinha snickers his amusement and is soon joined in by a chortling Neymar who is running fingers through the damp locks that cling to his forehead.

    "That sort of hot shouldn't come with someone so crazy," murmurs the Brazilian in amusement as he turns his flushed face to Rafinha. "I meant it though, I want you to think about it. And you better or I'll break your window trying to get inside next time until you give me a straight answer."

    "Whatever. Wanna go swimming or something while you're here? You can invite the guys over later so we can update them on your love life this time." 

    "I take it back, I don't love you. I hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know.
> 
> this is a terfinha story but it features a smidge of neyfinha D:


	11. once i was seven years old ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter yet, oh jeez.
> 
> oh, and uh, don't hate me after this?
> 
> (( literally a roller-coaster, what is wrong with me and my love of angst ??? ))

    Another few days come and go and he finds himself feeling more than rejuvenated after a therapeutic day with his friends in his backyard pool. Who knew that cold water on a humid day could feel so good? He still smells of chlorine the next day when he wakes up even despite the almost hour-shower he had taken the night prior.

    For once in the past few months he sits up in bed ready to face his day head-on without any doubts. He stretches his limbs before he exits the bed to sneak off towards his desk. Fingers poke and prod within it until he retrieves the note that still remained untouched to finally read its contents. After a day like yesterday whatever it entailed couldn't possibly kill his buzz.

    Speaking of buzz, he would probably hit the club that night with the rest of his friends for a drink or two.

    First things first, however, he's hesitantly opening up the folded note and smooths it out until its readable. He mentally prepares himself for whatever it would read with a deep inhale, reading it to himself upon the exhale; 

     _'I've missed you so much, Rafa. I wanted to visit you, I did, but I just couldn't not after what my maker told me. He said that you killed my mom.. Not you but he showed me the picture of someone and I didn't recognize you, not with the beard and hair and your everything. If I would have known it was you, I swear I wouldn't have ever did it. I just wanted someone to pay for what happened to her, she didn't deserve it. I get it if you don't want to see me again after what happened but I sincerely apologize from the bottom of what's left of my heart. You know I would never hurt you, ever. I still love you too after all this time and I wanted to talk to you but my parents said it wasn't healthy for me to feel that way at such a young age. I'm sorry, I'm doing that thing where I keep blabbing on... If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me._

_~ Marc-André xx_

_** I'm sorry, too, that the promise I made to come back was the one that hurt you as badly as it did.'_

    So much for the reassurance he had thought seeking the note out would offer him. It was all to no avail, he knew it would be this way, and can only pocket it in his shorts. He bends an elbow then gnaws on his nails, chewing on them thoughtfully, before pondering just what the blond had meant by 'you know where to find me.'

    And, fuck. Did he even want to see the blond so soon after that brutal beat-down? Somehow he believes the blond when he says he would never hurt him even if all the odds are pointing against him. He chews on the nail until it's soft enough to chew off, spitting it out halfheartedly onto his floor. Should he listen to his heart and continue to lie to those around him for his selfish need to see the blond he adored? Or should he be content with a future life with Neymar who proved to be reliable, despite his constantly wandering eye, as well as the quietness of daily life?

    It wasn't like his life was ever normal to begin with so why should he be comforted by this type of lifestyle? Things would surely heat up eventually once whomever placed the blame on him surfaces. And then maybe he would need a vast array of alliances to protect not only himself but whatever wolves were next on the kill list or—or whatever the hell the motive was for whoever was behind this stunt.

    He goes on with his usual morning routine then heads downstairs to grab breakfast with his parents and siblings, all of them turning their gaze to the brunet once he appears. Valeria has the broadest of grins on her lips once she gets over the initial shock of her son finally getting breakfast with the family again wears off. "I take it you're feeling better then, meu principe?"

    Rafinha pulls out a chair then sits down with the rest of the family where a plate of food is located in his usual place at the table. He picks up a fork then stabs at the scrambled eggs there, gathering a decent bit to stuff into his mouth, the brunet humming contently at the taste. "Meu deus. All that time I spent in my room when I could have been having your eggs." 

    Mazinho remains silent as he eyes his second eldest son, nibbling absently at the toast covered in grape jelly. "To what do we owe this honor?"

    "I guess you could say I see the bigger picture of things now? 

    "And what does that mean, kid?"

    He shrugs a shoulder then stuffs his face with more of the oatmeal in a bowl beside his plate. "I mean—" He manages around a mouthful of the thick substance, "I guess it could mean a lot of things, actually. I just feel a lot better about something, that's all."

    "Does it have to do with why you smell like Neymar?" Thaisa pipes in curiously as she lifts her glass of orange juice to take a few choice sips.

    "Uh—... Since when are you allowed to ask questions about that, huh?" He playfully points his spoon toward her then offers a smile when she laughs at him. "Since when did you become mother hen? Spending too much time with this old lady?" He slides his gaze to Valeria, the woman pursing her lips, narrowing her eyes.

    "That joke is in poor taste, darling." 

    "Just a joke," reassures the brunet as he continues to dive into his food.

    Valeria continues to leave her eyes narrowed as she turns her attention to a bewildered-looking Mazinho, who only shrugs a shoulder. The two are engaged in a silent exchange before the two ultimately sigh as they continue to delve into their own respective morning meals. Something about the looks they direct at him every few seconds or so is unsettling but he doesn't press the matter in fear of slipping up somehow.

    Despite the melancholy tone of the note, he feels superb. Perhaps it was partially because of the note? Not that everything would ever be the same between them, it was impossible now after what had occurred, but he would try his damned hardest to at least maintain a friendship with him. Then he sees a train set out of the corner of his eyes, one that belonged to Bruno that he frequented quite often.

    And that was the answer he was looking for.

    He suddenly straightens up from the table, bumping his legs against it as he goes, groaning to himself. "I, uh—I just remembered that I told Sergi that I would help him with some summer reading homework. I'll be back later on today, I'll even stop by somewhere and get you guys some slices of cake from the bakery down the street."

    "That sounds like a lie," comes the sing-sing voice from Thaisa as she leans toward her father: "I think he's actually going on a date with Neymar."

    Which, actually, was a better cover than his original story. So he coins his little sister a playful wink as he sets out for the front door. Even though he had been advised even as a young child that he shouldn't use his powers publicly, he can't resist that day. As soon as he exits the house and locks it swiftly behind him, he finds his legs moving on their own accord until he's in a stride heading straight for the house where most of his memories remained.

    It had been presumably empty since the blond had left those many years ago, or so he assumed as he never saw any cars in the parking garage nor any residents. He slows down in his stride until he's jogging like a regular person. Once he breaches the door he halts then takes a moment to scan his eyes over the intricate detailing over it. Memories.

    Cautiously, he extends an arm so he can grasp the cool knob, twisting it open until the door slides open to bang on its hinges with a squeak from lack of use. Hesitantly, he steps through the threshold, greeted by a musty scent that has his nose crinkling in disdain. The first thing he does is journey to the living room where a few childish toys still remained but doesn't halt there as he treks to the windows to open them to let in a fresh breeze.

    It's then his keen senses catch on to something in the air, so he whips around in his spot with fists raised before his chest, only for his gaze to come into contact with an apologetic Marc. He raises his pale hands high in defense as he steps a measured step backwards to allow the brunet space. Silence lapses between them, neither knowing the right words to say, or whether or not to address the subject head-on.

    Instead the initial rage of what had occurred overwhelms him to a point where he sends his clenched fists rocketing to punch the blond square in his stupid jaw. It sends him stumbling backward, eyes wide with bewilderment, the sound that leaves his lips blatantly startled. He rubs at the bone in his jaw with an hand as he blanches at the brunet. 

    "I deserved that," admits the blond timidly after a considerate moment as he clenches and un-clenches his jaw. "If it'll make you feel better, you can hit me as much as you want. I don't mind if you want to get even with me, in fact: I encourage it. Give it to me hard, Rafa."

    Rafinha obliges, or appears to, as he steps forward with fists clenched at his sides. His chest is rapidly rising and falling as he pauses right in front of the blond until only a foot is between them. Marc allows his eyes to flutter to a content close and a small, melancholy smile graces his lips as he awaits the soon to come fierce blows.

    .. But they never come ..

    Instead the brunet pounces on him, not taking any added time to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. At first the blond doesn't reciprocate and that makes him growl low with frustration as he presses him back against the nearest wall within the house. The blond's head thuds harshly back against the painted wall and he gasps sharply, which gives the brunet access to his mouth. His tongue explores every savory inch that his cavern has to offer and even allows the very tip of his tongue to caress along the pointed end of his fangs.

    This reels a frenzied noise from the blond who winds an arm around the brunet, tugging him impossibly close into the cool contours of his body. He easily towers over the brunet, having to crane his head downwards to make better lip contact. He allows the younger of the two to thoroughly assault his mouth as well as his enhanced senses with his sickly saccharine scent.

    "Rafa, wait—We should t-talk—Rafael.." Marc manages to breathe in between fierce kisses as he darts his tongue out halfway to meet the latter's until the two are passionately battling for dominance.

    Once more the Brazilian growls as he fights viciously and eventually wins the fight by a very obliging Marc. Russet hands are touching every inch of his pale body that he can find; be it hands, his hair, his cheeks, up and down the length of his smooth arms, then finally placating with gripping into the front of his shirt to anchor him to the spot. 

    Marc has to places his hands against the latter's shoulders in an attempt to halt his movements. But the brunet is more than eager to continue as he smacks the hands away to instead grip at the sides of his neck, gently stroking the skin beneath the pad of his thumbs. This time he slows the kiss, knows it's what they both need. 

    Slowly the blond takes his time to properly kiss the brunet. He gently applies pressure to his reddened lips then works them open with his own until the brunet is moaning beneath his administrations. One of his hands attaches to the back of Rafinha's head, holding him firmly in place, as he tilts his own to gain better access to those intoxicating lips.

    His tongue gently swipes along his lower lip then traces the top one with the very tip of it. Rafinha's lips part instinctively at the action and he allows the intrusion of Marc's gingerly stroking tongue that caressing every inch of his cavern then slowly trails the tip of his tongue along the roof of his mouth until the brunet is a shuddering mess within his arms.

    Wetness is felt against the blond's cheeks and he blinks to find the younger teen crying. He withdraws from the kiss and bends down to the younger's height, hands going to his cheeks, caressing the skin there before swiping at the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

    "Are we moving too fast? I knew it, I'm sorry, Rafa. I just—I knew how badly you wanted this and you know I can't resist anything when it comes to you." He presses on the back of his head until the brunet buries his face within the soothing coolness of his neck. 

    "I can't believe you left.." Rafinha manages to mumble despite his mouth being muffled by the damp shirt the apparent vampire wears. "You left, Marc. Y-you said we could talk everyday but you never answered, why didn't you answer when I needed you to?!"

    Marc can only swallow the lump that forms within his throat as he listens to the younger boy, gently shushing him while he strokes at his raven locks. "You know I didn't want to leave, I wanted to stay so bad with you. I tried, remember?" He chuckles at the bittersweet memory: "I stayed over at your house beneath the bed until my mom and dad found me. You said the plan would work and I knew you were always right."

    But the wolf either doesn't hear him or just entirely ignores the words as he pounds a fist against his chest, the blond wincing at the pain that resonates there. "Then when you come back like you promised y-you try to f-fucking kill me." Claws clench within the thin shirt the latter adorns until it tears the material slightly. "And now—now I don't know. I don't know what's going on and why I still feel this way about you after all this time, and—And I want to hate you for what happened but I can't."

    "Hey, hey. You can hate me as much as you want, Rafa. I didn't stay to make you fall in love with me again or anything like that. The truth is, once I knew it was you, I knew I couldn't leave. Not again."

    Finally the brunet glances up from the tear-stained shirt to stare at the blond. "Don't? At least not until we find who put this stuff in your head." He offers a melancholy smile as he chuckles bitterly to himself then vehemently wipes at his tears.

    "When I left I remember you smiling so hard and I thought you actually wanted me to leave. Did you know that?" Rafinha narrows his gaze as he stares up at the latter, a frown sliding across plump lips. "Then I realized that you only did it so I would feel better about leaving and I remember sitting on the plane thinking that everything you did was to make me happy, even if it made you feel bad on the inside."

    "Stop, look. Things aren't going to be the same as it was when we were in seventh grade, things aren't that easy anymore."

    Marc smiles in understanding, fangs making another appearance, as he smooths down the hair on-top of Rafinha's head. "I have a lot to make up to you, especially after I—.." The look that the younger shoots him cuts him off completely and he finds himself grinning bashfully. "You don't want to talk about it?"

    "Eventually. But right now I want to hear about how you became this big and badass vampire." He states with an amused smile as he nods his head in the direction of the couch that remains in the center of the living room. 

    "It's a long story," warns the blond as he settles upon the moth-eaten couch, nose crinkling in disdain at the scent.

    Rafinha quirks a brow then and offers a smirk, "You're a vampire. You don't have an expiration date, so we have all the time in the world right now." 

    "You want to spend an eternity talking about how I became a vampire? Really, Rafa? I come back and that's the first thing you ask?"

    "Probably because you got super strength and fangs and have a taste for blood."

    Marc winces at the mention then scratches awkwardly at the base of his throat, "I don't want to talk about that part. When I first fough— _saw_ —you I wanted to suck you dry." He admits with an apologetic smile as he unconsciously scoots away from the brunet.

    But the Brazilian is snickering and has the opposite reaction than what the latter had been expecting. "Maybe if you work on the fangs, that could be the first way you make things up to me."

    Pale cheeks turn a barely there pink as he averts their gaze to glance elsewhere. "I had begging everyday on my knees on my list, but whatever you want. I'll do whatever as long as you forgive me."

    "Marc?" The blond blinks at him, "Explain and then we'll work out the details."

    "I remember leaving Barcelona on the plane and we moved to a little town in Argentina. About a year had gone by and I kept trying to get in contact with you but I don't know what happened? I guess my mom's phone didn't get service there so I got a summer job to buy my own but things just didn't work out. I think it was ninth grade or tenth? That it happened." He halts to gauge the younger's reaction, the teen listening intently, motioning for him to continue.

    "I went to the market late in the evening to get some last-minute things for the dinner my mom was making since she had invited our neighbor's over that night. All I remember was walking down the street with all the ingredients then one of the streetlights went out so I tried to hurry but then someone came up behind me then I felt teeth on my neck," Unconsciously the blond strokes the area where two tiny bite-marks rest. "And I fought, I tried so hard. I just remember passing out on the middle of the sidewalk and being sent to the hospital by some lady who found me the next morning."

    Fingers tap absently at his upper thigh as he recalls the rest of the story, "Nothing was wrong with me or so they said. It takes a few days for it to kick in, I think. Then my mom took a trip a few month's later to the outskirts of Barcelona for a business trip but she never came back. My dad couldn't take it and wasn't okay for a while after that.. But then a month later I started getting these photographs in the mail and they were pretty vague with explaining who it was but was pretty clear when it said he killed my mom. So I hated you, not even knowing it was you, for the longest and I said once I was old enough to travel on my own that I would find him and make him suffer for it."

    "—and he framed me and lead you to me..?" Rafinha finishes for him, the blond nodding his head slowly in response. 

    "At first I didn't want to because it was wrong. Who takes away a life from another person? But then there were pictures of you doing normal things like shopping and playing sports and I just got so mad that my mom didn't get the justice she deserved until I just snapped." Marc clenches his teeth firmly as he runs a shaky hand through his hair. "I've never felt anger like that before and I just—I had to make it stop somehow."

    "I told you, it's okay. If it were the other way around though, I don't think I would have had the strength to even stop. Not like you did."

    "Once I knew it was you, it was like a light-switch went off in my head and all the rage was replaced with hurt. So much hurt, and it's like I had a conscience again." Marc smiles sadly once more as he plucks at the moth-eaten couch, plucking at a loose string there, then flicking it towards the floor.

    "Just because your heart doesn't beat doesn't make you any less human," reasons the Brazilian as he places a hand over the latter's heart. When he focuses in on it, he can actually hear the most sluggish beat ever known to man.

    Marc only smiles proudly to himself, "I'm still human on the inside." He insists with a faint flush as he peels away the hand at his chest to twine their fingers together.

    "Remember when we were younger and you promised to stop making a cheesy lines?"

    "Oh yeah. Sorry. I can't help it, you bring out my inner romantic." He raises the latter's wrist to his nose and scents the area affectionately. "I just wish you didn't smell so good."

    Rafinha follows the movement then hesitantly tugs his hand away. "Super senses or not, it's weird when people do that."

    "I could literally hear you sniffing me all the time when we were little, now I just know what it was all about."

    "Touche."

    Silence lapses between the two as they take advantage of the momentary pause in conversation to fully take the other in. Chestnut eyes are lingering on the tiny dots on the side of his neck before sweeping across his face once more; regardless of all those years, the one thing that remained consistent was his clear blue eyes. When he was younger he would think about drowning in them and how tranquil it would be to do so.

    Now isn't much different as he attempts to maintain the comfortable distance between them. One of the blond's hands is idly resting on the couch in the space separating them, his gaze shifting from the brunet's face to glance about the house. Figures he was feeling the nostalgia too after being away so long from his childhood home.

    "You know my life-story now," states the blond as he finally returns his gaze back to Rafinha. "I haven't heard anything about you and what's happened since I left. I missed so much, you have to update me."

    Rafinha nips at the skin on the inside of his cheek then smiles a moment later. "I have a little brother now, Bruninho. And Thiago left a little while ago. Thaisa is okay, though."

    "That's great, Rafa, really." The blond scratches absently at the cushion beneath his fingertips. "But what about you."

    "Other than you breaking my pre-teen heart?"

    Marc purses his lips firmly at that, "How long are you going to hold that against me? I said sorry.. I'm back now, I told you I'd make it up to you."

    "I know, I know. Meu deus, Marquinho, still can't take a joke." 

    "So I didn't break your pre-teen heart?" His tone is hopeful and sort of disappointed in a way.

    He scoffs. "Of course you did, merdinha. And get that smug look off your stupid face," grumbles the brunet as he kicks his leg out to collide with the elder's, who swiftly moves it out of the way.

    "What smug look?" The blond points incredulously to his face: "Why would I pride myself in being your first heartbreak? Isn't that a little dark? Even now?"

    "Why don't you ask my poor heart?"

    "Do you have a 1-800-HEART line that I could call? Because I have a lot of piecing together to do."

    "Since when do you have a sense of humor?"

    The two look at each other a moment longer before laughter rings within the otherwise dead space. As diligent as the blond tries to keep himself from touching the brunet, he honestly can't resist. Just like when they were little, he reaches out to take the younger's hand, the cool to warm contrast feeling just right against his skin.

    "But seriously, Rafinha. I want to know everything, don't leave any details out."

    Great. Now he would have to possibly get emotional again just to please the latter. "Things were weird after you left and I didn't even wanna go to school anymore, but Neymar was there for me. I don't think I ever got over it, you never forget your first love, y'know? When I got to high school it was like a fresh start so I tried dating but nothing really lasted long," he shrugs a halfhearted shoulder: "No one was German or tall enough, I guess? Nothing really interesting happened until recently."

    "Like what?"

    "Neymar confessed his undying love for me a few days ago and we, uh, we kissed. So there's that."

    The blond unconsciously tightens his hold on the brunet's hand at the information but he doesn't speak for a while. Instead he allows the pad of his thumb to brush along the smooth skin at the back of his hand. "I don't think he ever liked me, so I'm not surprised. I can't say I'm mad that you kissed, I mean—How could I be? He was there for you when I wasn't and—and it's okay that you're.. Dating.." He winces upon the last word and avoids the younger's gaze.

    But Rafinha snorts at that, as well as the dark flush that paints otherwise pale cheeks. "You wreak of jealousy, but it's not like that, Marquinho." He assures with another snicker. "Yeah, I like him, but I don't think that's enough to actually date someone. Plus he's been in the friend-zone for the longest now."

    "W-what? I'm not jealous," defensively murmurs the blond as he gazes at the brunet with thickly furrowed brows. "What makes you think I'm jealous? I think your sense of smell is off."

    "No thanks to you," comes the Brazilian's bitter response as he rolls his eyes. Once more the blond looks apologetic as he squeezes his hand again. "I'm not gonna lie though, if he would have told me sooner, we could have been a thing."

    Apparently the Brazilian reveled in pushing the blond's buttons, but the German manages to play it off quite well all things considered. "No, no—I get that. Not that I had someone else, I never dated after—after you. Nothing else felt, uh, right? Not to me." He chuckles nervously then bows his head once more.

    "This is what I always hated about you, you always give all these perfect answers. The Golden-German, always so pure and honest."

    "Do you expect me to lie to you, Rafa? It's how I feel and I know that I don't even deserve you or—or any of this, not even you talking to me right now. The real reason I'm here is because I'm selfish. I could just leave and you could be happier with Neymar, but even as badly as I want to see you happy, I just want it to be with me and no one else."

    "I don't know what you want me to say, Marc." Admits the brunet as he shakes the latter's hand away so he can pull his legs onto the couch, burying his hands within his lap. 

    A frustrated groan spills from the blond, he buries his hands within his hair then tugs lightly. "It's not about what I want, it's about you and what you want. Just forget about everything else, okay? Just tell me what you want. If you don't want this," he motions wildly between them: "then please tell me. Make it easy for me to let you go if I have to."

    Pressure builds within the Brazilian's head the more he listens to the latter. Fingers go to his disheveled locks to tug on them loosely, his eyes clenching tightly shut as he thinks. There are a lot of things that he wants—he knows that, for sure—but he doesn't know exactly what he wants right now in this moment. It's a lot to take in and he isn't sure he's one-hundred percent ready to agree to anything right now, not with the stress he's been enduring these past few months.

    "I don't know what I want right now," sighs the brunet as he releases a drawn-out breath.

    "And that's okay, I'm not going to put in your head what you should or shouldn't want anyway. You wouldn't be Rafa if you didn't make your own choices. Go home, okay? Do what you think is best and don't even think about me. And take care of yourself, please?" He releases a soft chuckle, "You look more undead than I do right now."

    With a head full of things to think about over another sleepless night, the brunet only nods as he rises to his feet. The German doesn't move an inch as he starts to stroll towards the front door, he doesn't even hear any parting words as he leaves down the front porch steps. All he can think is Neymar, Marc, his family, and what would become of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> team neyfinha ? team terfinha ?
> 
> who even knows anymore.


	12. trouble in mataró ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE OF MY DARLING BRAZUKAS IS LEAVING BARCELONA
> 
> DANI, BB, WHY (at least he's going to Juve, I actually sort of like them, so.)
> 
> BUT STILL. ONE LESS BARCA BAE ON THE TEAM.

     _Unstable_.

    Life was unable. Once upon a time things were going well for the brunet, all things considered, until he reached the summer that would lead to his most important year of school. It was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing two months until he returned to the hell formally known as high school. Of course when it came to him, life just seemed to continuously fuck him, and not in the gentle way either.

    Somehow he had managed to easy lull himself to sleep to the sound of rain pitter-patting against the roof of his house, to which he was more than grateful. Of course when he wakes in the middle of the night all he can ponder was what was constant in his life other than his family and a few select friends that he knew would willingly take a bullet for him if necessary—not that it would ever come down to that, or so he hoped, but he wasn't certain about anything anymore nor the possibilities of what would happen to him.

    Offhandedly he thinks to phone his older brother who was probably still wrapped up in bed sleeping or perhaps it was later in Germany, reaching the afternoon already? Either way he didn't want to involve anyone else in his already hard to solve problems but he has to talk to someone. Someone other than an amorous Neymar or his parents—his _parents_. 

    They had no idea what was going on in his life at the moment. He winces at that as he shifts within bed, pressing his back against the headboard, stretching his legs out before him. Lying was not something he could pride himself in but somehow he had managed to make everyone around him believe that he was just missing his eldest sibling instead of struggling with a variety of things he was sure no one else could relate to.

    How could he confess to his parents that he had been targeted to be killed by none other than Marc? As if they would understand that. And what if he did tell them that? Surely his parents wouldn't be as understanding as he was, would probably snap and try to get revenge in the only way they knew how. That option wasn't good for anyone and would only cause more stress in his ever errant life.

    Decision made, he makes a move for his nightstand then dials the familiar cell phone number of Thiago. Part of him wishes that he doesn't answer the phone while the other desperately needs to talk to someone for an opinion from the outside looking in. No one knew him better than his brother.

    Finally the phone stops ringing and he hears a groggy groan from the other line, "Rafa? Is something wrong? Are mom and dad okay?"

    "Yeah, no. No, they're okay. It's, uh, it's me," rasps the brunet as he bends his leg at the knee. He jiggles the opposing knee up and down for a moment before he speaks once more: "I needed to talk to someone.."

    "At this early in the morning?" He hears a yawn then the bed audibly shifting followed by the sound of a door clicking close. "Must be bad then if you're calling at this hour. What's wrong?"

    He inhales deeply, holds it, then releases a moment later. "You have to promise not to tell mom and dad or anyone else. It's sort of my problem and I don't need anyone else getting involved."

    "Depends. What did you do this time? Break something or—?"

    Rafinha brings his thumb to his mouth to chew on the already low-cut nail there. "Theoretically speaking, say your best friend is in love with you. Right?" Thiago makes an affirmative noise. "And said friend kisses you." He nibbles at his thumb for contemplative moment. "And tells you that he loves you and wants to be with you, but, uh—Let's say someone else comes in and tries to, y'know, kill you. Right?"

    "I don't think I like where this is going."

    "But the reason behind said person trying to kill you is because someone framed you over, uh, a situation that actually nothing to do with you. To make it worse, said person also kissed you and wanted to be with you. So now you're confused because one is your best friend and the other tried to kill you but for good reason?"

    The other line is silent, which only increases the brunet's anxiety, until finally his voice comes through. "I don't even get how that's even a choice, Rafa. He tried to kill you, it doesn't matter the reason. C'mon, you're the brains. You're not really that stupid, are you? And your best friend is Neymar and if Neymar kissed you then why not go for him? Yeah, he's annoying, but I don't think he'd try to kill you."

    Another heaved sigh. "Look: said person tried to kill me because someone told them I killed their mom. Could you imagine if someone told you that—that Julia or someone killed mom or dad o-or Thaisa or Bruninho even if it weren't true?"

    "That's different, and I can't even be sure how I'd even react to something like that until I'm in that situation. Meu deus, Rafinha, what the hell did you get yourself into? I've been gone a week and this is what happens right after I leave?"

    Russet hands swipe across the side of his face, eyes closing tightly, before he's exhaling once more. "You wouldn't even think twice, Thi, it's in our nature. Plus we could probably get away with it if we wanted, not that that's the point or anything, but still." 

    "Whatever, Rafael. Even if I did react that way, I'd have a conscience about it, and I probably wouldn't be able to live with myself afterward."

    "But he stopped, Thiago. When he knew it was me, he stopped and let me go. I-I think I blacked out too but he took me back home."

    "Who, Rafa? Tell me who it was."

    "I don't think that's a smart idea—"

    "—If you don't, I swear I will fly back home and tell mom and dad myself—"

    "That's not necessary."

    "Then _tell_ me."

    How did he honestly expect to get through this inquisition without mentioning the name of the blond? But what would become of him had he told the latter still waiting on the phone. Shit, shit, shit. This is why he should keep things to himself versus trying to be the honest man that he thrived to be. Not that lying was okay but in some situations, or so he tried to justify, it was okay. He hears the elder clear his throat over the phone then he's pulled from his conflicted reverie to groan to himself.

    "Look, it's—it's Marc, okay?" Cue the startled gasp from the other line. Perhaps he was too stunned to speak if the silence was anything to go by. "He's, uh, not completely Marc anymore, but he's the same on the inside, blood-sucking and stuff aside."

    "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a minute," he hears an echo that probably meant the elder had locked himself in the bathroom. "You mean to tell me that Marc, your Marc from middle school, tried to kill my baby brother then went and got himself fucked up by a vampire so now he's a—he's, well.. One of them?"

    "I just said that,"

    "Shut up, smart-ass. Listen: vampires aren't the most stable." There it goes again, that damned word. "At least not at the beginning, all they want is blood. They get so angry and so violent so quick, especially when they don't have any blood within the first month. Sort of like babies, I guess? They need it for nutrience, and I doubt you want to be someone's blood bag for the rest of your life."

    "Since when are you the walking vampire encyclopedia?"

    "Don't make me hang up on you."

    "No, hey. Don't do that. I'll be serious." He nibbles on his lower lip once the nail on his thumb is completely destroyed and bitten beyond belief.

    Thiago snorts his amusement despite the situation. "Has he had any, that you know of? If you're going to associate with him, like I know you will because you like the danger, then you need to know. Without blood they tend to lose humanity and I don't want to have to leave Germany to rip him apart all because you thought it would be fun to run with vampires."

    That was unclear. "Uh, I don't know? He told me he wanted to suck me dry," cue the amused laughter that echoes from Rafinha and the disgusted scoff from the latter.

    "That doesn't freak you out or anything? That he pretty much said he wants to eat you?"

    "I guess it depends on the context?"

    Another disgusted noise. "You said you were being serious."

    "I just feel a lot better actually telling someone the truth, just let me enjoy it before I have to lie to everyone again." He releases an exasperated sigh as he scratches at his now bare, smooth cheek; he shouldn't have shaved. "Just, as my big and wise brother, tell me what I should do?"

    Another momentary pause, one that leaves the brunet gulping deeply, ensues until finally he hears the sound of Thiago's breathing. "I think it's a lot deeper than your love life, Rafael. This is about your safety, all jokes aside. I can't just tell you what to do either because it's your life and you're going to do what you want anyway."

    "I just need your opinion, Thi, you don't have to tell me what to do. Just tell me what I shouldn't do."

    "Before you do anything, you'll have to get Marc some blood before he loses it again. I swear if he puts another hand on you or even breathes on you the wrong way, I will kill him myself. And I'm not kidding either—"

    "—You never do—"

    "Shut up and listen. I don't know how you're going to do it but you have to do it soon. He could be offing homeless people right now, that doesn't bother you?"

    He shifts the phone to his other hand then proceeds to nibble on the nail on the opposing thumb. "I mean, yeah, it does. But I don't think he'd actually do that, he wouldn't even talk about blood or even say it when we were together."

    "Why don't you go ask or something? Before you get hurt, again. I don't even know how mom and dad haven't noticed you acting all strange. Actually, I know exactly how. They probably already know but are just waiting for you to stop being a coward and to tell them yourself. Start thinking about other people and not just yourself."

    He winces at that. Soon he wouldn't have any nails left except short nubs that were grazing on skin. He would need a new habit soon if he still planned on having fingers anytime soon. But, meu deus, why did Thiago have to be right majority of the time? If his mother and father knew then surely Thaisa did as well which only meant one out of the trio were bound to be snooping around his room whenever he decided to up and leave with whomever.

    Maybe it would be for the best, muses the brunet, then he wouldn't have to tell them anything. They would find out on their own but no—then he would have to endure their never-ending wrath for keeping secrets when he had promised years ago that he would always be genuine with his words. This wasn't looking positive in any way, shape, or form for him and would only end badly.

    "Rafa? You still there? Get out of your head, at least until we're done talking."

    "Do you really think I'm being selfish?" As if it were the heinous things he could be in the world.

    He can practically hear the eye roll. "No, I don't." Sarcasm. "You're keeping secrets from the people who love you the most. Of course it's selfish."

    "I can't just randomly tell them what's going on."

    "Why not?"

    "I don't think it's that easy."

    "I'm going back to sleep—"

    "—Wait!—"

    Click. He tosses his phone toward the end of the bed then shifts until his feet touch the floor. Now he definitely wouldn't be able to sleep. Though, granted, he was probably making the situation a lot worse than it actually was. There was no more life or death situation anymore and everything was alright for the time being.

    All he had was a wolf that wanted to court him and a vampire that never stopped loving him. As if that was the root of all his problems. Ha, he made himself laugh. Nothing serious was going on any longer so he had no idea why he was still stressing when the only issue currently was his love-life. He reaches for the remote knocked onto the floor near the nightstand then turns it on until the screen fizzles to life.

    He flips aimlessly through the channels until bright flashing lights meet his gaze. 

     _' **HEADLINES** : body found in Mataró, close to the major city of Barcelona. There are no suspects and the name of the victim has yet to be released. Body said to have puncture marks on the arm as well as the neck and is favored to be victim of an animal attack versus homicide. Stay tuned for further information on this building case.'_

    "Shit." 

    Given that Mataró was only an hour away by car, more or less, it could have been possible that the blond had reached the mentality where he snapped with his need to sate his blood-thirst. Hopefully the news didn't reach Germany and go international for fear that Thiago would become aware and cut his stay abroad short.

    Even though he had said he would only return to Marc when his mind was made up, he knew that he would have to see him to ensure that it wasn't him who was responsible for the death. As quickly and quietly as physically possible he sneaks into the shower then rapidly changes into a pair of shorts, a button-up shirt, and some sandals.

    Instead of using the window, which only seemed to increase suspicion, he takes the stairs like a normal person. Once at the bottom, he comes to face his only sister on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her clutches, glancing up at him once he comes into view. He mentally hisses to himself but coins her a grin nonetheless.

    "Shouldn't you be in bed Tata?"

    She blinks at him then places her bowl within her lap, "I was until you woke me up. You were being loud on the phone, and I tried to go back to sleep, but then I couldn't so I just came down here."

    "Right, so. Were you eavesdropping or anything?"

    She coins him another glance before returning her gaze back to the television program. "I wasn't, no. But I do know you were talking to Thiago."

    "Oh, yeah. I just needed to talk to him about something," Her eyes glance at him through her peripheral then she offers a nod. "Tell mom and dad I'll be back later on today? One of my friends got into some trouble so I have to go help them out. So, uh—Be good and stay near the house?"

    "Stay near the—What are you talking about?"

    "Nothing. I love you," he presses a tender kiss to the top of her head as he goes by then exits the house in a haste.

    It takes less than ten minutes to arrive at the old house, as fast as his legs would allow him to jog without any weird stares from the joggers around him. As soon as he makes it, he has to halt with his hand on the knob, almost frightened by the thought of what may rest on the other side. Like last time, it's already unlocked, and he cautiously presses into the home to meet the scent of a more pleasant smell as opposed to the one previously.

    Movement is caught in his peripheral from the staircase and he instinctively glances in that direction to find a puzzled-looking blond stepping from the top to the bottom. Brows are furrowed as he stares at the brunet inquisitively but he doesn't speak, no, just waits for the brunet to. But when nothing is said, he takes the task upon himself.

    "I didn't think you'd be back this soon," states the blond hesitantly with a small smile as he leans against the wooden railing at the bottom of the staircase. "I thought it would take longer than a day to think about, y'know, everything."

    Chestnut hues are more focused on scanning the latter's outer appearance for any traces of blood. His lips are still their usual pale pink and his face is generally as smooth as it usually is. His clothes are different, however, but he supposes that's only basic hygiene. There are no spots of blood spatter on his arms either, so now it's his turn to look confused.

    "Hey, did something happen? I'm not used to you staring at me like this and being so quiet," admits the blond as he takes a step away from the staircase to approach the younger who seems to be rooted to his spot.

    "You're not thirsty or anything, are you?" Marc quirks a brow then firmly shakes his head no. 

    "Please tell me you didn't come back because you think it's okay for you to sacrifice yourself to me. I promise I don't need anything from you or anyone else, I'm fine." Rafinha notices the wince that crosses the latter's face as he speaks.

    "No, no—What? No? I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything that—"

    "—You don't trust me, is that it? I swear I haven't left the house since you left. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay."

    Either the blond had picked up the cunning ability to lie like a fox or he was telling the truth. He used to be a terrible liar, one that fidgeted under pressure, but none of those signs were present as he spoke. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

    Pale hands are hesitantly darting out, pausing just before touching the younger's shoulders, before resting them there to address him. "Something happened? Hey, look at me? Tell me what's up and I can help."

    All the brunet can do is shake his head as he stares past the blond's head to stare pointedly at the stairs. "Vampires, Marc. They're near Barcelona, and—" He utters a sigh. "And they, it, whatever killed someone. It's on the news and everything."

    "You thought it was me?" Incredulously asks the blond. Rafinha glances up at him to find hurt blatant in his eyes, the blond bowing his head. "You really think I would do something like that?"

    "Have you ever drank blood, Marquinho?"

    He can see the discomfort flicker across his features before he slowly nods his head. "My maker worked at a blood bank and gave us whatever was close to expiring, I've never had it from the source. And I don't want to either, so stop thinking that I'm a monster or—or something."

    "I didn't say that, but I mean, it's hard to believe you would anyway. I don't think monsters come with a marshmallow setting."

    "Are you comparing me to a marshmallow right now? Really, Rafa?"

    "You're pale, soft, and mushy on the inside." Grins the brunet as he stares up at the blond with a smug smirk.

    "So what does that make you? A piece of chocolate? We're not making s'mores, Rafa."

    Amused snickers echo from the brunet, the whole scenario temporarily forgotten. As disgruntled as the blond looks he, too, joins in the fit of laughter. He finds himself closer to the younger as the brunet tips forward with the force of his laughter; it brought back bouts of nostalgia when the two were young and could laugh at the most ridiculous of things imaginable.

    A pale hand comes up suddenly to brush along the smoothness of Rafinha's cheek, tracing tiny circles there as he comes down from his laughter fit. "You look a lot different without the squirrel on your face," muses the blond as he continues to stroke the skin there.

    Rafinha adamantly smacks at the hand then rolls his eyes. "I'd rather have a dead squirrel on my face than that stupid haircut you got."

    But Marc is all smiles, fangs glittering in the light and all, as he smiles down at the younger. "Everyone back in Argentina had this hairstyle."

    "Everyone in Argentina had stupid hairstyles, too." 

    Even though the moment was short-lived, it still felt a lot like when they were younger. Despite the blond always having been the more serious of the two, he tended to let lose of his inhibitions when around the Brazilian. It was rare that anyone ever got to see this side of him since he hid it from everyone else; he had always been rather timid as a child, and arguably still was. 

    One of the things he had missed the most was the ability to make the blond blush, somehow he still managed to even if the latter's cheeks were a more alabaster color than usual. There probably wasn't a lot of blood flow in his body now but he still manages a cheeky pink flush when Rafinha looks at him a second longer than necessary.

    "I missed you, I know I said it before but I want you to know how much I meant it." The corner of Marc's lips quirk into a small grin. "I wanted to say it before everything else but then you kissed me and it sort of messed up my brain."

    "It was a good kiss," quips the brunet defensively with a firm purse of his lips, crossing his arms over his chest.

    "I didn't say it wasn't," counters the blond as he playfully nudges the younger with an elbow. "Probably a lot better than it was when I was little, I just remember spit everywhere and you bit me and my lip was bleeding. I remember having to tell my mom—" Wince. "it was from a fight."

    His nose crinkles in disdain as he turns his back on the blond to stroll towards where one of the windows from before still remained open. His keen hearing allows him the knowledge that the blond was right on his heels so when he glances over his shoulder, he's not startled when he's met with curious blues. He leans his elbows on the windowsill as he eyes the blooming flowers located on the side of the house appreciatively.

    "I bite, you bleed."

    "Isn't that more appropriate for me to say now?" He gently nudges the brunet until he makes space for him. The blond shifts his gaze to Rafinha then, gaze flickering between his eyes to his lips and back.

    "Touche."

    Finally chestnut met stormy seas and he feels himself drowning within their depths. At least it was a peaceful descent, muses the brunet, as he hesitantly leans forward to place a tender kiss to the latter's nearly frigid lips. There it is again, the briefest of electricity surges through his lips to radiate throughout the entirety of his limbs until he's gasping and withdrawing.

    Marc still has his eyes closed when he shifts his head back, raising a hand to feel his lips. Seconds later the blond is blinking until his gaze focuses on the younger's face with a nearly euphoric grin that's far too wide for his lips. He reaches a pale hand out, his skin not singing in the light—which was what he had honestly been expecting—, to take Rafinha's hand within his in a simple, fond gesture.

    He presses his lips to the back of his hand, "What are we going to do?"

    That simple sentence is enough to reel him out of his tranquil reverie. So much for the silence of the moment. "I have to tell Neymar," he sees the slight twinge of jealousy spark within those clouded blue orbs: "—and the rest of the wolves about it."

    "A-are you going to tell them about me, too?"

    "I don't know if that's a good idea or not?"

    "Why not?"

    What was meant to be a frustrated groan comes out more like a growl as he pushes off the windowsill to make hand motions with his hands. "If I tell them about you, I have to explain why you came back." He pauses to glance back at the blond, who awkwardly wavers from foot to foot, then resumes his pacing. "Can you imagine what an angry pack of wolves could do to you?"

    "Literal dog chow?"

    "Cute but true. And I don't think explaining it all would make it okay for everyone else. Specifically Neymar, who hated you from the beginning."

    "See? I told you."

    Chestnut hues narrow at the blond, hunching his shoulders forward in defeat. "We still have to tell them though. We can leave off the vampire part, at least for a little while. We'll just say you just came back to visit and randomly saw me on the street or something? That's believable."

    "You're not a liar, Rafinha."

    He offers a sad smile at that. "I didn't think I was either."

    But Marc releases a huff nonetheless as he comes up behind the brunet to wrap his slender arms around him in a reassuring embrace. He buries his face within his neck, brushing his lips against the skin there, "You'll make it right, I know you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this story is confusing, i'm so sorry. sometimes i don't even know what i write, then everything gets messed up, but you know. c'est la vie. x3
> 
> i still have some comments to reply to but i'm lazy and sort of hungry so i'll probably do those things first before i respond :3 
> 
> thank you all for reading and possibly commenting in advance though ;D <3 xx


	13. the truth hurts ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like.. where is this even going ? i have no idea. D:

    Things still weren't looking up for the brunet even after he had returned home that day. Apparently he had been gone hours longer than he had originally intended and had gotten the scolding of his life by his mother who was more hurt than aggravated with him. Something about how he should always bring his phone with him and how he should check in every once in a while, especially when he was acting 'bizarre.'

    He had received the news, as well, that Neymar had stopped by asking about him and his whereabouts. Thaisa had intercepted, like he depended on her to do, and had told him that he had an emergency call earlier that morning that he needed to attend. Hence the multitude of pissy text messages he had received all throughout the rest of that day and night.

    He decides that he needs a few days to himself before he calls the rest of the pack to allow them the knowledge of what was occurring. But in those short, few days another two murders had occurred with nearly identical puncture wounds but in varying places scattered on the body. At least now he knew for fact that it wasn't Marc, who had seemed to remain at the house like he had previously stated.

    That was when he knew that it was time to call the group together to inform them that there was an imposing threat by a group—or perhaps just a lone vampire hell-bent on revenge—roaming the area around Barcelona. The murders seemed to circle the city and slowly but surely was headed straight for them all.

    But later on that evening when he goes to leave the house without much of a word to his parents, he's blocked by his father who zooms in front of the door. Mazinho has his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his expression was no better as he stares down at the considerably shorter young man, a low growl sounding in his throat.

    "Papai, I really have to be somewhere. Can we play charades later?"

    Nothing less than a humorless chuckle spews from his father's lips, however, as he points an accusing finger at him. "You're not going anywhere until you explain what's been going on with you. It's been two and a half weeks since Thiago left so I know you're not still torn up about that. Sit," points the man toward where the couch lay empty. "And get to talking."

    "Shit."

    "Excuse me?"

    "Shoot?"

    Mazinho sits comfortably upon the arm of the chair while the brunet finds himself tensed on the cushions. Fingers rapidly find a loose string, tugging harshly on it, anything to distract him from the stern look he's currently receiving. Oh God—when was the last time he had seen that look on his father's face? And what exactly had he done again? Nothing good, he knows that much.

    "You've been in and out of the house so much these past few days that I'm beginning to forget what you look like. And you have no idea how much of a toll it's taking on your mother."

    "It's nothing, pai. It's just summer and I've been out with my friends, that's all. Tell mamãe that she hasn't done anything wrong."

    Still not convinced, the man clicks his tongue. "You've been smelling off these days, Rafael. I don't know who you've been hanging around but you smell filthy. With how you're in and out, I'm not even sure you're showering nowadays."

    Rafinha crinkles his nose then gags at just the thought, especially with all the running back and forth he's been doing. "Oh, papai, no. I shower, trust me."

    "Who have you been out with, Rafael?"

    The Brazilian does a thing where he faces the direction of his father but stares past him to offer the illusion of eye contact. "No one new or anything, just my friends, papai."

    "You're lying."

    Oh God, he is. And he can't seem to stop. At least one half-truth should fix it all. "I saw Marc at the park the other day and we've been hanging out, that's why I haven't been home lately."

    Taken aback by the onslaught of information, the grown man can only awkwardly clear his throat. "The nice little German fellow, Marc? Your friend from way back?"

    "Yes, papai. I didn't wanna tell you because I know how you are about the whole, y'know, human-wolf thing." 

    "That's it, that's what off." Mazinho snaps then points a finger accusingly at the brunet. "You don't smell wolf or human, you smell—.. Just not right. I can't put my finger on it just yet."

    Shit, shit, shit. He scrambles for an adequate response before the older man can figure things out then flashes what he hopes is an embarrassed flush. "Can I go now? I have a date with Marc, and I'm already late so I mean—.. After an hour it's just rude."

    "Yeah, go on. I just don't know how you're going to explain this to Neymar, he told me you two boys were together."

    Figures. Without even a word, for lack of retort, he leaves the house with a reassuring smile thrown over his shoulder. As he strolls down the cement with his hands shoved down within his shorts, he's met with the blond who has on a pair of midnight black shades as well as a thin sheen of sunscreen that seemed to do little since his skin tints salmon pink.

    He adorns a black, v-neck shirt as well as a pair of faded denim jeans that hugs him in all the right places. The past few days the two had been talking about what would become of their relationship until it was decided that nothing would be labeled. There would be no further kissing nor unnecessary public displays of affection until most of what was occurring was over and done with; no need to complicate things anymore than they already were.

    While approaching the park where the group was near the medium-sized pond in the grass, the brunet abruptly stops. Marc continues walking a few more feet until he stops to shoot a glance to the younger male.

    "What's wrong?"

    "I don't think we should tell them about you, not yet."

    Marc tries to fight back the frown that threatens to plaster across his lips but to no avail. "I'm having a flashback to seventh grade."

    "No, it's not that. It's more the whole pack is out there and I don't know if vampires can drown, but that pond is pretty deep and I don't know if I could fight them all off."

    "I.. Don't actually know if I can drown..?" He scuffs his shoe into the vivid green grass then runs nimble digits through blond locks. "And I told you, Rafa, stop worrying about me. I'll be fine."

    "Baby steps?"

    The German heaves an outstretched sigh then raises his arms above his head to stretch his limbs. "I'll just go back to the house then until you're ready to tell." He folds his arms behind his head then and starts to walk away.

    Rafinha wets his chapped lips as he stares after the blond, "Why don't you go out or something and have some fun while you're at it?"

    Marc doesn't stop as he glances over his shoulder with a deflated frown. "I don't have a life here anymore outside of you," whispers the blond into the wind, the words sending an involuntary shiver through the brunet's form.

    Now he would have to face the group alone without the latter's broad shoulder to lean on. He scruffs his foot against the grass as an attempt to distract himself from the possible outbursts that were bound to occur. Rafinha takes a deep breath to calm his already racing heart before he exhales with a step toward where the group lay at the pond.

    Another step sends him surging forward and he allows the air that nips at his face comfort his flushed skin. Nearly seconds later he's skidding to a stop a few feet away from the edge of the pond where the group looks up at him with a variety of facial expressions directed toward him.

    Almost instantaneously one hazel-eyed boy latches himself to his body, slinging an arm around his waist, tugging him closely toward the warmth of his body. "We were just talking about you and how we had this thought that maybe you fell in a well or something like that."

    Sergi pipes in with a scoff, "That was just Neymar. We know you're always late so we weren't really surprised. I got here, like, ten minutes ago just in case."

    "What a pack," murmurs the Brazilian as he flashes his eyes at Sergi, who seems completely un-bothered by it all. "I was just worried for reasons, I'll have you know. So keep it quiet, puppy."

    Sergi practically whines in his throat at that as he crawls through the grass, casting a frown over his shoulder at the two Brazilians currently standing. He removes his shoes then dips his feet into the cool water of the pond then sighs, the words said only seconds ago completely dismissed. Shakira glances from the two boys to Sergi then back to offer Rafinha an imploring raise of her brows.

    "I feel like this has something to do with those murders," wearily states the young woman as she unconsciously sinks her nails into Gerard's shoulder, the baby-faced man growling low in his throat.

    Rafinha is opens his mouth to retort but iss interrupted by a nose ghosting along his throat, scenting him until it was content. "Why the hell do you smell like that?" Queries Neymar, completely ignoring the curious eyes that stare onward. 

    "Uh—.." Russet hands gently push the boy away as he instead sits down within the grass, crossing his legs indian-style. "Yeah, you're right. It's about those murders, so—"

    Dani raises a hand in the air, "Are you saying you know what that's all about?"

    "Hell yeah, he does." Neymar advocates as he joins the brunet, bumping knees with him. "I think it was gonna happen to him, but he managed to get away. His face sort of," tanned hands motion toward his face: "got a little messed up, but other than that? He kicked ass. Or I think he did. Right, princesa?"

    Gerard snorts to himself, "You're speaking for Raf? Since when?"

    "Are you two.. Together..?" Shakira asks a moment later as she links fingers with Gerard, a kind smile on her lips.

    "This isn't about that, we're getting off—"

    "—He said he'd think about it—"

    "Topic, fuck, will you stop?"

    Offense paints his features but otherwise he remains silent as he brings his knees up to his chest. He motions a tanned hand toward the brunet and allows him to continue. "Fine, fine."

    "Okay, so. It was all a misunderstanding and I, uh, I get why it happened. But I was attacked by a—a vampire when we all went to that club that one day." Soft sounds echo within the space as well as bewildered glances being exchanged. "Like I said, definitely a misunderstanding, but I think he may have been followed here to Barcelona and now these murders are happening. It's not a coincidence, it can't be."

    Sergi removes a foot from the water and tucks it beneath his body, the other still kicking back and forth within the pond. "And what's so misunderstanding about that? You were attacked by a vampire," hisses the blue-eyed boy, his eyes flashing a deeper blue.

    "He's leaving out that he broke his fucking nose the next time they fought." Neymar persists with a narrowed gaze as he looks at each individual in the circle. A low growl echoes from his throat, which is echoed throughout the group. "I swear I'll kill him," fists clenched tightly together, so much so that his claws sink deeply into his skin until tiny, crimson crescents form.

    Maybe it was best he didn't let the blond stay longer than necessary. "Good for you," Bruna murmurs from a decent distance away as she snatches up blades of grass then throws them away from her.

    "Why are you even here?" Neymar exclaims as he darts hands towards her incredulously before throwing his hands within the air and heaving a groan.

    "Why didn't you tell us when it happened?" Dani questions as he slams his fists into the ground on either side of him. "We could have done something the first time it happened, but you let it go on until you were almost killed?"

    "All of us were there that night, Rafael." Shakira scolds in a more maternal tone as she breaks away from her embrace with Gerard, who only leans back on his hands. "A pack is much more stronger than a lone vampire."

    "This is probably why I didn't even mention it, except to Neymar. I'm surprised he held it in this long without even telling you guys about it. The second time it happened though, I—He helped me. I swear. That's how I ended up in bed the next day after he choked me and I almost—"

    Gasps echo from around them once more but Neymar is the first to go into motion. His arms and legs begin to tremble violently at the admission, his breathing becoming labored and harsh. "You almost—you almost d-died and you didn't even..?" He immediately stands to his feet and backs away from the group. "You didn't even tell me and I—I told you I loved you and you were in pain and you—you didn't even think t-t-to—"

    An eerie sound of bones crackling and the sight of skin expanding and contorting bizarrely meets the groups gaze. His head snaps to one side then the other until his features shift to the face of a wolf. His eyes are a steely blue that are far too intense to linger on and his body is rapidly expanding until he falls to all fours. His palms are turning into paws and are coated in thick, sandy-looking fur that extends until it cover the entirety of his chest and finally to his legs. His tail sways side to side in aggravation as he finally rights himself, turning his head towards the sky to release a vengeful howl.

    He casts a glance at Rafinha, his ears twitching before laying flat on his head, then darts off away from the scene in swift, fluid movements until finally he's out of sight. When Rafinha shifts from his position to stand up, an arm shoots out to capture him about the wrist, tugging him back toward the ground. Dani only shakes his head sympathetically, the emerald-eyed man shifting his gaze toward the general vicinity of where he disappeared to.

    "He just needs some time. He loves you, and it probably kills him that you didn't even tell him what actually happened that day. Just let him go. He'll come back when he's ready to." Dani puts a reassuring hand upon his shoulder then, offering it a squeeze.

    Shakira wipes at a tear that forms on the corner of her eye, Gerard quick to gather her within his arms and settle her within his lap. "He's right. We need you to stay here and tell us all you know before it all comes to Barcelona." Her voice is muffled by the shirt that her boyfriend adorns, claws sinking into his skin through the material once more.

    Sergi, who's apparently more bewildered by the shift than anything else, just stares from the spot the Brazilian had just been then toward where he had ran off to. "Yeah, we need Rafa, but are we just gonna ignore that he just phased? Like, fully phased?"

    "We're wolves, Sergi. That's what we do," murmurs Gerard who receives a playful punch from Shakira followed by a giggle. 

    "Okay, whatever. Like Kira said, we really need to talk about this." Dani motions toward him to continue. "But if I tell you my source that knows about—about all this, you can't tell. I mean no one outside of this group. Not even Neymar, I'll tell him myself. Everyone good with that?" Rafinha glances about the circle and notes the nods and smiles. "The vampire, it was Marc."

    "Super skinny, blond, and German Marc with the lederhosen?" Everyone turns to look at Bruna who rolls her eyes at the abrupt attention. "What? I'm not stupid."

    Chestnut hues linger on her a moment longer before he resumes his speech. "I know, it sounds crazy. But someone, his 'maker,' told him that I killed his mom. So he, just like any of us would, came after me. But once he knew who I was, he stopped. He even brought me home, like I said, and—and we're cool now. I was gonna bring him here to meet up with everyone but if you guys reacted anything like Neymar did then it would have been pointless."

    Communal silence fills the circle as well as a variety of exchanged glances between the individuals present. There are clenched fists and husky growls, but there are also thoughtful looks and tiny frowns. Probably better this way than acting with violence, muses the brunet, as he surveys the group. Even Bruna looks thoughtful, which is sort of astonishing considering her resting bitch-face.

    "I get it," states Shakira with a firm nod of her head. "I completely understand. In fact, I'm glad you two managed to reconcile. All of us knew what a toll it took on you once he left."

    "What's got me worked up is how the hell you're going to explain this to Juninho, you know how he is. Hell, I'm not even fully okay with it. He tried to kill you regardless of whether or not he stopped. Are you sure you know what you're doing with him? Even my mom and dad taught me about vampires and how you can't trust them." Rafinha can only groan as Dani continues to drone on and on about it all, even after his very thorough explanation.

    "I know this doesn't mean anything to any of you, but he loves me. That means something—a lot. He's not gonna hurt me. Plus I'll handle everything myself, so you guys don't have to worry about it anymore."

    "I don't care about any of that, you're our best friend. We're with you. " Sergi coins him a thumbs up: "Right guys? I'm not alone in this?"

    A litany of affirmative words is spewed into the air around him, the brunet grinning to himself. Even though he was in no-way an alpha, he certainly felt like one with his ability to rally a crowd. He takes the time to make eye contact with everyone present before switching to a lighter, less intense topic that would surely relax everyone. And for the better, of course. 

    No one worked well under pressure, he knew that the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on the brightside, there's some smut next chapter. heuheuheu


	14. want you close, but close ain't close enough ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a lot longer than i had intended to post D:
> 
> i sowwy. me still luv yew long time though <3

    Red was a recurring color in his life recently but he had no idea what it meant. Blood was red, he muses to himself, but the word passion was laced to it too. The color was so apparent in his daily life nowadays that it had somehow weaved into his subconscious so his dreams were also tinged with a bright scarlet. Hopefully it meant something positive, he needed a boost in his life, especially after how things had drastically turned once he entered the summer.

    Tonight he would relax with the assistance of his friends at the club downtown. Deciding that maybe Marc needed a little normalcy to his life, he had suggested that he come with, and of course the blond had eagerly accepted the invitation with a broad grin. Somehow between the day the pack had spoken about the deaths and now, it seemed to dwindle in numbers until all had gone quiet, which should have been disturbing.

    But teenagers would be teenagers regardless, even if it meant temporarily ignoring their problems in favor of trying to be as ordinary as possible. Hence why the pack is currently compacting inside of the van that Gerard owns, one person nearly seated on another as it bounces over a pot-hole in the cement.

    Awkward silence fills the vehicle once it had stopped to pick-up a very anticipating, smiley Marc with Rafinha, who can only smile at the elder boy. He ushers him toward the back of the van where only one seat was available, being mushed against the window and between a thin Marc, who happened to be more muscle than skin and bones nowadays.

    "So—.." Dani trails off casually as he crosses one of his legs in an attempt to free up more space. "You're a vampire now, how is that going for you?"

    The whole group hears the question and, as inconspicuously as possible, turn within their seats to glance back at the blond who was put on the spot. Even Gerard glances back as he halts at a red light, quirking a brow as he locks eyes with the blond.

    Marc shrugs a shoulder then glances at Rafinha for some semblance of support. "It's okay, it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

    Sergi pulls a face, "Minus the blood-sucking bit?"

    "Yeah, I wanna know about that too. Is it tempting being this close to everyone?" Dani quirks a brow then looks the blond up and down considering the two are pressed tightly together. 

    Rafinha releases an amused snort but doesn't speak as the blond settles on nibbling his lip. "You guys don't smell that good, actually." 

    " _Us_?" Sergi nearly snorts as he shifts completely until he can put his hands on the back of the seat to face the blond. "Do you have any idea how _you_ smell?"

    A throat clears from the very front of the van that belongs to a curious Gerard, "So what about Rafinha? What's he smell like to you?"

    Curiosity overwhelms the brunet as he makes eye contact with vibrant blues that are looking anywhere but on his countenance. Cheeks flush a pretty pink and he clears his throat to interrupt the silence that otherwise consumes the van. He brings up a hand to avidly scratch at his cheek then offers a timid smile.

    "I can't even describe it, not really." Nervous laughter bubbles from his throat when he receives a suggestive eyebrow waggle from Dani. "Just.. Different. But not a bad different, a really good one."

    Chestnut hues offer him a teasing glimmer before he shifts his gaze to outside the window where the sky is already darkening considerably. "You know you have the option to plead the fifth, right, Marquinho?"

    "Hey! Where's the fun in that?" Sergi frowns then nudges a surprisingly quiet Adriano, currently reading and sending various text messages back and forth.

    "I personally don't care about any of it, it's none of my business and doesn't effect me." states the Brazilian as he yawns, openly then smacks his lips. "Just waiting on Geri up there to hurry up."

    Relief floods the teenager's form as he settles more comfortably against Marc, who's more or less a firm pillow. Of course he lacks the plushness of an actual one, with all the ridges and toned muscle and all the rest of the contours of his body. Why did everything always have to come down to the blond and his assorted body parts?

    But now he's thinking of it in depth as he gently places a hand on the blond's thigh, offering it a warm squeeze. He hears contented humming spew from beside him, and he smiles fondly to himself. Even the muscle on his thighs were firm and he wondered what they would look like bare without those tight jeans he was currently wearing and how—okay, no.

    Blame the hormones. Being a teenage wolf with an affinity for German boys with nearly flawless skin and blond hair was quite a struggle. More specifically when said boy had been the object of your affections for years now and he finally returns with the build and face of an Adonis that had just been carved out of the finest marble and—and, yeah, he really needed to stop thinking about him like that.

    While the rest of the van breaks off into other individual conversation, he finds himself gazing at Marc through the reflection of the window. Almost as if the bastard could read his thoughts, he notes the tiny smirk that twitches across his lips, his pale hand resting on top of the Brazilian's to offer it a tight squeeze.

    "It's like you can read my mind," breathes the brunet even though he was more than aware that the group could possibly be listening in; of course they would be, they were as curious as they were cautious.

    "Not your mind," whispers the blond as he presses his lips against the younger's ear: "just your face."

    He purses his lips at the tone of the latter; something akin to arousal, certainly smells like it too. "What am I thinking about?" Cue the roaming of his hand further up his thigh, which is soon stopped by the blond's hand.

    "Things you shouldn't, not now, not when everyone's around." 

    "You know me, I like the risks."

    Pointed teeth gently graze along the outside shell of his ear then the blond is withdrawing from his countenance completely. "I can hear it," he flushes a deeper color as he shifts into a more comfortable position. "Did you always have this reaction around me?"

    "I have no idea what you're talking about."

    "Rafa," hums the blond as he searches his eyes. "I don't think that type of heart rate is healthy, even for wolves."

    Rafinha flushes a bashful scarlet, tinting russet cheeks, as he locks eyes with the elder. "Don't say that aloud like that, I can tell they're listening."

    Sergi is the first to speak about it, however, as he gazes at the two from over the seat in front of them. "Sorry, sorry. It's just—.. Nothing. It's nothing."

    Nearly a minute later the van halts in the parking lot and circles around before finally finding a spot near the front of the club for once. Always celebrate the small miracles in life, muses the brunet, as he awaits the rest of the pack to exit the vehicle until his feet meet with concrete. Light flash from the brightly illuminated neon sign above the club, signaling that things would be okay. At least for now.

    Soon the entourage is finding their way past a very passive-looking bouncer and into the lively ambiance of the club. As always, they seem attracted to the bar like magnets, where a very buzzed Klopp remains behind the counter mixing drinks avidly. He momentarily pauses to nod in their direction but finishes the other patron's drinks before he addresses them.

    "Liquid Death wasn't enough for ya, huh? And ohoho, looky here. Ya' brought a new one." The older man points a bottle of an unknown liquid toward the blond who cants his head to the side. "Who're you and what's your poison?"

    As thoroughly perplexed as the blond manages to look, he sits down in one of the bar stools and smiles politely nonetheless. "Oh, hi. I, uh—I'm Marc-André, but I just go by Marc."

    Adriano raises a finger then makes a little circle with it. "You already know what we want, old man."

    Klopp flicks the Brazilian off and temporarily ignores him as he leans across the counter toward the blond. "On a scale of 1-10, how pissed are ya' that your parents named you something so awfully French that I can taste the baguettes?"

    Shakira leans an elbow on the counter as she watches the scene unfold before her, glancing toward Gerard who is far too engulfed in the conversation to even spare her a glance. "This is his first time out with us, don't scare him off, please."

    "I never really thought about it," the blond awkwardly rubs at his bicep as he maintains eye contact with the elder German.

    "I have something for you that'll make you forget that name, that is if you like scorpions in your gogo-juice." Klopp states with a finger pointing towards a clear bottle with a deceased scorpion resting at the bottle of it.

    Marc opens his mouth to speak but is intercepted by Rafinha, "Marquinho probably just wants water. Not your kind of water though."

    "Oki doki." 

    Klopp was more of the eccentric type, the older man the picture of what most children wished their grandparents were like. Completely carefree and borderline crazy but all in good fun. One that would probably offer you a glass a beer at age fifteen then coerce you into saying morbid things to your parents for a decent, hearty laugh; one at the ridiculous things he had managed to get you to say, and two for the fact that you probably got in trouble for it.

    Gerard nods his head in the direction of the dance floor suddenly, which is echoed by the sandy-haired girl who is ushering the tall lad toward the center of the vast array of bodies. For someone so petite, she sure was strong as the rest of them, probably more so with her force of will. But either way the group at the bar considerably dwindles as the others run off to go pick-up girls or perhaps just to sit down in the lounge.

    "He's not as weird as he seems." The look he receives from Marc is blatant disbelief, so much so that he finds himself snickering. "Okay, fine. Yeah, he's a little weird. But that's why we love the guy. His type of crazy is kind of refreshing sometimes."

    The blond still doesn't look completely convinced as he eyes the German man currently doing—was that even considered dancing?—some type of jig behind the counter with a glass sloshing around within his hand. "Rafa, I don't even drink, and this—this is why." he motions toward the man who crack an eye open to glare at him.

    "At your age, your blood should be ninety-percent alcohol and ten percent hormones, kid."

    Rafinha can only grip onto the counter as he releases his laughter, to which the blond pays no heed to, too occupied with raising his hands defensively in response to his fellow German. "I didn't mean to be rude, it's just.. I just don't drink, it's not my thing."

    "Hey, hey. I'm not asking you to start an unhealthy habit, Marquinho, just forget everything with me just this once? We can go do more Marc-like things when everything is over. Swear." Urges the brunet as he picks up the small shot glass that contained, well, that he wasn't sure but still. He offers it to the blond, who eyes it wearily, but takes it nonetheless.

    "Like ya' need some fancy GPA in a bar, kleine Scheißer."

    Rapid blinks are seen from the blond as he eyes the man who practically insulted him before heaving a groan. He tips the small shot back, however, then crinkles his nose in disdain at the taste. "Mein Gott, was ist in diesem? Ist das überhaupt legal?"

    "Hölle, wenn ich weiß."

    "Podemos falar espanhol para que eu possa entender?"

    Both the Germans look immediately to the Brazilian at the lack of knowledge of the language he was currently speaking. Rafinha only rolls his eyes as he points to the bottle on the counter then taps at the shot glass the blond had placed back onto the table. "See? Not fair, merdinhas."

    "That's okay when you call me that," murmurs the blond as he eyes the elder man through his peripheral. "It's doesn't sound as warm when you do it."

    "Ah, well. How about this? You nurse this bottle then we'll see how you react then?"

    Hesitantly, the blond agrees, but mostly because the Brazilian had so eagerly pleaded him to. Nearly half the bottle later, the blond seems to lose all of his inhibitions, practically clinging onto the younger male for support. That was when the brunet had the spur of the moment thought to tow him towards the dance floor, never actually knowing whether or not he could dance.

    Today he would find out. 

    A familiar song blasts from the speakers surrounding the dance floor, an upbeat reggae-ton song he thinks is called 'Es Un Secreto.' Pale limbs are moving far too out of sync with the song and the brunet finds himself chuckling his amusement as he reaches out to grip onto those flailing pale hands until they rest upon his waist.

    "Like this, meu amor." 

    "I know what that means," hums the blond as he tightens his grip on the younger's hips, at first swaying them back and forth in the opposing direction that his head is swinging. "You called me your love." 

    He rolls his eyes affectionately as he hooks an arm around the latter's slender neck, tugging him close until their foreheads are nearly touching, then maneuvers the other around his hips to tug him closer until he can feel every contour of his body pressed against his own. Breathless laughter comes from the blond at the closeness, his alcohol-scented breath wafting into his face, not unpleasant in the least.

    Rafinha, feeling bold and gathering liquid courage, meanders a thigh in between the blond's. He moves his hips against his to the hypnotic beat, allowing his forehead to finally rest against the latter's. Eyes flutter to a content close as he allows his body to take full control of his actions until he feels a pair of hands tighten around his waist.

    Marc finds himself tilting his head to the side as he, without any hesitation, captures the younger in a kiss. His lashes flutter against the younger's as he slides his tongue along his lower lip before plunging between them as they willingly part. He meets the latter's tongue halfway then fights for dominance with fierce intent, his fangs elongating to gently scrape against his lower lip.

    Using the gasp that the brunet utters as an advantage, he presses into his mouth and thoroughly assaults every inch of his cavern. Hips are now moving in sync as they move against each other until the brunet is rendered completely breathless as he struggles to maintain the momentum their kiss takes. The arm slung around his neck tightens, his fingers gripping harshly at blond locks, tugging at them desperately.

    "You drive me crazy, Rafa." Breathes the blond in between kisses as he nips gingerly at his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth, before kissing him fully once more. "Can't think.."

    Chestnut hues, flashing a deep blue, are hazy with lust as he eyes the latter. He finds himself shifting in their position so his back is now pressed flushed across the elder's chest, pressing his hips back insistently against his. This reels a low sound from Marc's throat as he buries his face within the Brazilian's neck, his tongue darting out to lick a line up the smooth column. Rafinha, who's feeling more than a little high, tilts his neck to allow him access as he presses back against the noticeable bulge within Marc's jeans.

    He feels pointed teeth graze along the skin of his neck and he doesn't even flinch as they gently pierce the skin. "F-fuck.." Shudders the brunet as he flutters his lids until they're closing once more, the music barely even background noise as he nearly melts at the sensation of the blond sucking at the skin on his neck.

    Suddenly the blond is halting all movements as he laps at the small, crimson dot his teeth made upon the brunet's neck. He holds his tongue there for a moment, sealing the tiny accidental incision, before pressing a tender kiss there. "Stop tempting me," breathes the blond against his neck as he thrusts unabashedly against the latter's ass, holding his hips firmly.

    "You could have done it," dreamily breathes the brunet as tilts his head to gaze at the blond, who leans forward to peck his lips.

    "Can't—... Shouldn't—.." whispers the blond as he stares, eyes completely unfocused, into the younger's glowing eyes. "Want to.. But can't.." 

    "Bathroom," states the brunet as he begins to move forward with the blond still pressed into his back, almost as if stuck there by glue.

    Once inside, the two stumble into a less than hygienic stall, the brunet making quick work of his jeans as well as Marc's who doesn't even look an ounce capable of accomplishing the feat on his own. Rafinha takes it upon himself to wrap a firm, warm hand around both of their cocks to rapidly stroke them in-time. Plump lips find thin ones once more in a lazy kiss, the brunet grunting as he thrusts into the fist his hand makes, panting against the elder's lips.

    "Shit, shit, shit.." Pants the brunet as he tightens his grip ever so slightly, focusing on the heads of their cocks, squeezing tightly upon the upstroke.

    His strokes lack any proper coordination but it doesn't seem to matter as the blond throws his head back against the stall door, digging his nails into the younger's upper arms for stability. Sounds that are borderline illegal tear from his throat, eyes clenched tightly shut, even as Rafinha buries his face within his neck to nip eagerly at his throat, tugging the skin between his teeth.

    "R-Rafa, I can't—Can't anymore.." 

    Taking that as an incentive, the brunet stokes them as fast as his wrist will allow, ignoring the ache that begins to form there. He can fill his release building up within the lower pit of his abdomen, his chest rapidly rising and falling against the elder, until he releases with a choked sob. Streams of white coat both of their shirts and, no less than a minute later, cums the blond with a shudder. He murmurs Rafinha's name weakly like a mantra as he cums, hips jerking almost as sporadically as Rafinha's, his nails not letting up within his skin.

    Things after that are a blur until he barely registers that he's within a considerably cool home in a bed that's far too small for two teenage boys. Somehow the two manage to maneuver about until both have some semblance of comfort. He remembers a strong, heady scent that intoxicates him until his eyes flutter to a content close followed by the press of cool lips against his jugular.

    The rest is uncertain in memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.. there was a liiiittle smut? this is more a filler since the plot goes deeper in the next part D:


	15. bruises and bitemarks ;*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my darlings, it's honestly been too long. this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest now, so i edited it a little bit, though now it's probably riddled with grammatical mistakes, but alas, after so long, here it is.
> 
> in the words of antoine griezmann, "enjoy."

  
  


Darkness is met with chestnut hues as he leisurely allows his eyes to mechanically blink until he can focus on the ceiling up above. He parts his lips to release a soft yawn as he shifts onto his side, releasing a sharp gasp when he's met with a cool and solid form, whose eyes remain peacefully shut, pretty lips slightly parted to release soft snores.

Rafinha blinks another few times before he recalls the night before when he shamelessly got the blond a little buzzed because, honestly, he simply couldn't resist. Strangely enough, the blond had managed a muddled stupor in a mere two drinks instead of the three the brunet himself had consumed; rightly earning the name of 'lightweight,' despite his German lineage. Then he remembers hands being covered in a sticky substance, as well as their clothing, so he instinctively peels back the covers to look but his shirt is completely clean, in fact: it wasn't his shirt at all.

It was far too big and completely swallowed his torso but he wasn't complaining, not with the cologne that clings to it, caressing the skin of his body. Lips quirk into a small smile at the fact as he quietly shifts out of the bed until his feet are planted firmly on the floor. What day even was it? Seconds go by with the Brazilian attempting to gain recollection but to no avail, instead he figures that it probably wasn't all that important anyway, especially not when he was previously tangled in a warm heap only moments prior. Talk about teenage dreams coming true. 

He abandons the tiny bed in favor of bounding downstairs, decidedly ravished since he lacked the remnants of a hangover. But before he can make it down the first step, audible shuffling is heard down below. In a world full or vampires and warring werewolves, it was probably best to ensure that all parties were awake and conscious than attempting to stalk around alone, though one would expect safety within your own home. Sigh. To turn back and rudely awaken the blond or continue on his trek to face the threat alone?

He stalks down the steps one at a time, heartbeat thudding within his ears, taking a stunned step back when he's meet with a pair of inquisitive eyes. "Hey, princesa. I sort of wanted to apologize for wolfing out like that. I didn't actually know I could do that, surprise?"

Warm hands glide along the railing of the staircase as he departs the stairs to meet the hazel-eyed boy in the center of the room. He crosses his arms defensively over his chest, gnawing harshly at his lower lip, contemplating just how he would explain the situation at hand. "Yeah, no. It's cool, I'm not mad or anything. I sort of expected that from you, hot-head and all that."

" _Yeah_ ," snorts the latter, shamefully scratching at the side of his cheek. "So why are you here anyway? I went by your house earlier this morning but your window was shut again, so then I sort of casually followed your scent here, which—I didn't even think was right, thought something went wrong with my nose when I finally phased back." Thin, tawny fingers prod absently at his nose as he speaks, glancing at the younger once more.

He weighs his options but ultimately sighs. "I wanted to tell you before, honestly, but you have to swear not to phase again. Or, y'know, any of the irrational reactions you do. No dramatics either."

"Why, I _never_." The male slants a hand over his chest as he feigns offensive but otherwise nods along to the terms. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, shoot."

"So I almost died the other day.."

"No shit,"

"I know who did it,"

"Okay.. That doesn't explain why you're here..?"

"It was Marc. And he's here, like. Upstairs here."

Hands possess an all too familiar tremble as the wolf's eyes twitch at the influx of information. He cants his head in betrayal as he gazes incredulously upon the younger—a look that Rafinha finds himself getting used to— then shakes his head in dismissal and disbelief. Thick brows furrow tightly together before he's glancing up the staircase to where the blond was presumably still soundly asleep. Before the brunet can process what was bound to occur and spring into action, the elder is already clenching his fists and barreling full speed into the bedroom.

Effortlessly, the brunet trails him, but the elder is superior in speed. Surprisingly the blond is groggily already out of bed and rubbing absently at his eyes with a fist when, abruptly, his neck is snapping to the side from the force of a swift punch thrown by the Brazilian. It echoes with a deafening crack, the blond stumbling backwards at the unanticipated blow, before straightening tall to throw his hands out toward the younger.

"I know you're mad, but you have to understand."

"That you tried to kill Rafa? I got that."

Another powerful punch is aimed at Marc, the blond taking the hit like a champ, holding his hands up defensively before him a moment later. "Ney, stop. Listen, you have to—he thought I killed his parents—"

All he receives in response is a guttural growl as the wolf continues to throw vigorous punches to the blond, who continues to defend himself, ducking and dodging and weaving the rapid fire blows until finally he snaps and ivory fangs elongate to pierce his bottom lip. If the Brazilian notices, he doesn't concern himself over it, not with how he swings another rapid arm only for it to be caught mid-air by the vampire. Pale arms swing him around with a swoosh until he has him gathered in a choke-hold, holding him firmly in place, hissing against his ear.

"We have bigger things to worry about, and I know you're mad. But I stopped before it was too late, I care about him too." Marc hisses into his ear, only for a pair of strong arms to reach behind him to grasp his head, flinging him over his head until the blond clatters to the ground in a weak heap.

"Not like I do," insists the Brazilian as he rubs gingerly at his neck, strolling toward the blond sprawled across the floor, cracking his neck to relieve the tenseness there.

"You gotta stop and hear me out—"

"—I heard you loud and clear the first time—"

But the vampire's countenance is deviating with emotion until his usual oceanic gaze deepens to a steel, almost inky color. He manages to find his footing once more as he lunges toward the Brazilian wolf still hell-bent on avenging Rafinha's name. The two collide and a variety of punches and swifts kicks are delivered until somehow the blond, moving with the grace and fluidity of a feline, manages to pin the brunet to the floor. 

Not that Neymar gives up that easily, no, he only flips them until he manages to kicks the blond off, ivory fangs extending fully in indignation. Once more the Brazilian clamors to his feet, wiping at the blood that gathers at the corner of his mouth, offering a bloodied smirk toward the blond. Dark eyes flicker from the crimson liquid dribbling down the curve of his jaw, and then back to his meet his hazel gaze. Temptation strikes, the brunet recognizes the look, as the two continue their ducking and dodging until a pair of claws dart out in an attempt to swipe along Marc's neck and—and he goes into action.

A growl, one Rafinha hadn't previously known to possess, erupts from his throat as he addresses the two. " _Enough_. This is pointless and will get us nowhere. Stop it, now." Chestnut hues flicker between an intense azure then shift to a deep lavender before finally resting on a bright, piercing scarlet that startles the other Brazilian and has the blond bowing his head in shame.

"Your eyes, Rafa, you're a—you're an alpha?" breathlessly chokes out Neymar who leans forward on his knees to gather his breath once more, coughing as he does so, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand.

"It doesn't matter what I am, all this fighting is stupid, Juninho." Then he flickers his gaze toward Marc, who hesitantly glances up to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry, I just—He wouldn't stop and I just got so angry and—and then the blood." Winces the blond as he attempts to sound as apologetic as possible, even sparing a glance to the side at the unruly Brazilian, said man scowling in his general vicinity. 

"We're not little kids anymore," murmurs the brunet as he leans against the edge of the bed for support before sitting upon it altogether. "Do we really need a time-out? Or should I make you guys write apology letters?" prompts Rafinha with a quirked brow as he looks from one boy to the other. "No, I'm serious."

When hazel meets crimson, the wolf bows his head submissively then shakes his head. "You should have told me when you knew, then maybe I could understand." Breathes the boy as he threads fingers through his hair then darts his hands in the direction of the blond. "But you can't just expect me to be okay with this after what he did to you, and I don't care if you get pissy about it. I'm just not gonna accept it that easy until he proves that he won't do it again, can't see you hurt again." 

Marc, who's looking rather sympathetic, hesitantly strolls toward the Brazilian to place a solemn hand upon his shoulder. "Look, that's not—That wasn't me. I'm sorry about what I did to him, and I'm trying to do what I can to make up for it." Said Brazilian swats the hand off his shoulder then takes a few steps away from him, clenching his fists tightly to his sides in an attempt to reign in his fury. "I know it hurts him that we can't get along.. And I get it, okay? You don't like me, you never did. Just—just think about Rafa and how he feels? If you love him, like you say you do, you'd at least try to be okay with it."

Cue the scoff. "Were you thinking about that when you left him?"

Rafinha stares in pointed bewilderment at his fellow Brazilian, brows creasing in frustration, lips poking out into a frown: "He didn't have a choice, Juninho. You do though, and we're— _I'm_ —gonna need you when things go to shit."

"Just tell me something?" starts the Brazilian as he hesitates before strolling the short distance to the bed, plopping down contently beside the younger male. He stares at him a moment, placing a hand upon his thigh, offering it a squeeze. "You're not sleeping with him, are you? Not after I.. Not after I told you those things?"

Rafinha is oddly amused by his words, staying silent for a contemplative moment, eyes sliding to cast a glance toward the awkwardly wavering blond a few feet away. "You're saying I can sleep with everyone else, except Marc?" Joking around with the latter was the best way to diffuse the tension raging within him, he figures, even if the topic did make him more than a little uncomfortable; and the defeated look plastering across the vampire's countenance was making it worse.

Laughter bubbles from the Brazilian as he silently regards those crimson hues that stare back into his own hazel. "Something like that, yeah. Preferably no one else either."

Marc lingers by the door, scuffing his bare foot against the floor, wincing at the answering squeak of the floorboards. He awkwardly clears his throat, pointing towards the door: "I'm gonna go get some," he motions wildly with his fingers, casting a sheepish look to Rafinha, who frowns slightly.

"Sustenance? Fruit punch?" Rafinha supplies with a narrowed gaze as he assesses the elder, who hunches his shoulder in defeat, nodding his affirmation.

"Yeah, uh, that. I'll leave you guys alone for now, just—I'll be around?"

Cue the bitter scoff, "As long as you're not in the park sucking the life out of unsuspecting little kids." Hazel eyes are glancing toward the blond, offering him a scowl. "Or whatever else you do."

"You're such a dick," murmurs the brunet as punches the elder in the arm. When he glances back to apologize on the latter's behalf, he finds the blond has vanished, only the faint scent of his cologne lingering within the air.

"Dick, I am..." mumbles the teen as his gaze sears into the very spot the blond had previously been standing in. "I just don't trust him, not even now, and I don't think I ever will. And if I don't look out for you, who will?"

Constantly reminding the blond of the sin he committed in the defense of his deceased mother was wrong, but the Brazilian showed no semblance of seizing his actions. No one rightfully understood the circumstances, he knows, and words alone won't even half explain what that must be like. It would genuinely gut anyone who was mere seconds from losing their life, so he's aware of why the Brazilian reacted the way he did, and he fears that his parents would certainly react in an identical manner. Which is why he was still hesitant, he didn't need the added stress, didn't feel like opening that can of worms. He winces at the thought alone, doesn't even notice the concerned look he's receiving nor does he acknowledge the fingers that smooth down his unruly locks.

Blinking, the brunet only stares at the latter, doesn't even think to remove to the hand that is currently cupping the back of his head. "I can look out for myself, I'm tired of getting everyone involved, tired of everyone thinking I'm this—this little kid that needs to be protected from everything."

"I don't care what you say, princesa, but you can't do this all by yourself." Slender fingers abandon the back of the brunet's head to tap twice upon his temple, staring at him pointedly. "Use that head of yours and think for once... I don't see you as a kid, Rafa, and I know what you're capable of. But that doesn't mean I can't be here for you when you need me, and even if you don't, I'll still be here. You're gonna need someone in your corner to be there when this blows up, and I know you. Inside and out. You can trust that we can get through whatever together. Just me and you." 

Warm fingers are reaching for his then, twining their fingers tightly together, offering his hand a meaningful squeeze. Conflicting emotions well within the brunet as he shifts his gaze from the latter to the floor, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Not that he needed anyone—let alone the wolf that is currently stroking the pad of his thumb against his skin—but he knows deep within himself that he would have to have an alliance with someone to pull through the situation at hand.

But even so, he was still determined to do the vast majority on his own. Because he could do it, he was fairly certain of it.

He returns the squeeze a moment later then straightens up to head toward the door, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Wanna go grab a coffee or something?"

Neymar, who is already eagerly hopping off the bed with a broad grin, can only nod his head enthusiastically. "It's too fucking hot for coffee, but I mean, sure. Why not?"

"Iced, stupid." 

"That works, too."

Alas the two set off toward the nearby cafe that lay along the crowded streets of Barcelona, but of course, things were never that simple for the wolves. Along the way, and another meaningless conversation later, the elder of the two receives a phone call that has him crushing it once the voice fizzles out. The brunet, the one that tended to look out for the group, glances around the crowded space and abandons the shop in favor ushering the elder out of the cafe where the two were gathering a few bizarre looks.

Once outside he sits the elder at one of the empty tables, the Brazilian almost instantaneously gripping onto the arms of the chair. It practically bends beneath his fingers, however, which has the younger twitching uncomfortably. "W-what happened?"

Momentarily the hands crushing the arms of the chair halt in their movements, enough for the boy to glance up, hazel hues darkening considerably. "We have to go, right now." Like that he's standing up and fast-walking in the opposite direction to whence they came.

"Hey, hold on." Rafinha shouts toward the currently blond-haired Brazilian that doesn't slow his pace in the slightest until he's running in an all-out sprint down the crowded sidewalk. Rafinha, who's clearly puzzled and disturbed by the turn of events, can only jog to keep up with him to avoid suspicion: "Ney, fuck. What's going on!?"

But never once does the blond halt to even acknowledge he had heard him. Instead the brunet struggles to keep up as he jostles innocent bystanders that curse him in fluid Catalan. He can only murmur apologies in his wake as he nearly topples over a man pushing a cart of fruits from inside a store, having to pause to capture a few to right them on the cart.

He receives a gracious smile from the elderly man, which he politely returns, before he's huffing once more as he weaves through the forms still crowding the sidewalk. Soon he loses track of the blond, at least by sight, and has to rely on smell alone; which proved difficult with the restaurants surrounding the nearby area as well as the sweet scent of wine. It all assaults his senses at once, he pauses, regains his breath and composure, before he closes his eyes to focus.

Eventually his nose manages to hone in on the blond that was nearly yards away in the direction of a member of their packs home, to which he feels a chill run down his spine, though it may just be perspiration. But either way he pushes himself as he rears up to turn the corner of the sidewalk to where a few houses lay scattered down the street he finds himself on.

He catches the blurry sight of Neymar pressing through one door in particular, one that belonged to Sergi. That alone was enough to propel him forward until he, too, bursts through the door to find the boy laid out along the floor with his parents leaning over him, gripping painfully tight onto his hand.

"I-I don't know what happened," his mother says as her trembling hand grips tightly onto his: "we came home from grocery shopping to find him here, just like this, a-and he said to call you, that you would know what happened." 

Tanned fists are already clenching tightly when he glances toward Neymar, who's face is contorted in rage, his breathing already labored as he manages a few breaths through clenched teeth. "You need to go," despite the rigidness of his form, he sounds as calm as physically possible, coining a glance through his peripheral at the brunet beside him.

"Not until you explain what happened to our son," Sergi's father demands with a low, droning growl that makes Rafinha's eyes prick, blinking rapidly, until he receives a hiss from the older man.

"We can take care of it," reassures the brunet though he knows that misusing his power was genuinely not the most gracious way to go. But nonetheless the man, as well as his wife, are slowly nodding. "Go upstairs, it's safer up there, I promise. We'll explain later, just—just please." 

Like that the two are hesitantly seeking safety upstairs, though he knows the questions he would be asked later would be fierce and demanding. He can practically see it within their eyes as they scowl down at him before disappearing somewhere within the confines of the home. Finally the lying game would be over, not that he can think about that now, not with a blatantly unconscious Sergi currently sprawled across the floor.

Shaky hands are carding through blond locks, the elder glancing at him with concern etched across his countenance. "I knew this would happen, I knew it, and—and it happened right after your toy left the house, fuck. I swear if he did his," bitter laughter spews from the wolf as he crouches slightly until he can gather the younger male into his arms. "I'll kill him, Rafa, without any hesitation."

"It wasn't him," denies the Brazilian as he backs slowly toward the still-open front door. "I swear to you, it wasn't, it couldn't be. Just—we need to take him somewhere, anywhere, just until he wakes up so we can find out what happened." 

"I can't just go home, not like this, not with—not with someone unconscious. How the hell do you think my parents or Rafaella would take that?"

A groan. "I can't take him to my house either, I can't lie to my parents, Ney. Not anymore." 

As agitated as the blond looks about whatever it is he's thinking, he hunches his shoulders forward. For a moment he glances over the tranquil-looking boy within his arms, then to Rafinha, then back to release an outstretched sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we gotta take him to your toy's house. That's the only place I know we won't get questions. Just—just one more lie? Tell your parents you're staying over at mine, and I'll tell mine I'm staying over at yours."

"You really think they won't ask each other where we are?"

"Meu deus, where's your optimism? They'll probably think we're fucking or something, that's better than taking care of an unconscious puppy, don't you think?"

"You want them thinking we're fucking, that's better to you than just being honest?"

He shrugs a shoulder as the two try to look as conspicuous as possible even with the boy the elder currently holds: "They probably already think so, it doesn't bother me at all." 

Meandering down the street with an unconscious body within your arms seemed to be as suspicious as possible, which was probably why the two had eventually gotten stopped by a policemen questioning about what was wrong with the boy. Of course the elder had explained that waking up after a night of partying in the park wasn't the most intelligent of decisions, even despite the skeptical look he receives from the man, he insists that as trustworthy friends they would deliver him back to his home safe and sound.

Said policemen still looks suspicious about the two but he didn't question it further, much to their relief, and instead tells them to keep moving to avoid any further suspicions. Rafinha tosses the latter a grateful look, though he still can't actually believe he had bought the story, but he wasn't going to combat whatever it was the elder boy had said.

Soon, even though the three were receiving scolds and scowls the whole way, the trio manage to make it back to the enormous house that was occupied by one blond in particular. When the two conscious males walk in, they find a wallet-sized blood bag within the blond's clutches, his teeth sinking into the plastic that holds the crimson contents to drain it.

Disgusted noises echo from Neymar as he nods his head in the direction of the ratty couch, gently laying the younger boy down upon it. Marc, who appears to just now notice the intrusion, blinks rapidly then nearly drops the bag on the floor; thankfully he had advanced reflexes, managing to catch it before it floods the floor in a crimson pool. 

"This isn't a good look, I know." Marc rasps bashfully, swiping the back of his arm along his mouth, coating his fair-skin an eerie light pink.

"As disgusting as that is," the elder Brazilian crinkles his nose in disdain as he kneels in front of the couch, gently patting the younger boy on the cheek, attempting to rouse him. "I have bigger things to worry about like how the hell your kind managed to get to Sergi."

Marc narrows his eyes, brows furrowing tightly, as he discards the plastic bag in a nearby bin then strolls toward the couch to sit on the arm. He spares a glance at Rafinha, who is currently staring at the blond with a quirked brow, but doesn't address the look. Instead he frowns at Neymar then shrugs a shoulder: "I wish I knew, but I don't. I'm sorry.. I swear I came alone. I-I didn't even think that I'd be followed.."

"Thinking doesn't seem to be your strong suit,"

"I was told before summer break I had a chance to be Valedictorian,"

" _Smart ass_."

Rafinha rolls his eyes promptly, shaking his head as he does so, then points towards Sergi still laying unconscious on the couch. "It's not that serious, meu deus. Ney, check for puncture wounds."

With a final scowl directed strictly toward the blond, the Brazilian resumes his previous actions, turning over the younger boy's legs as well as arms until he finds nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't see anything, at least nothing visible.." murmurs the boy as he gingerly tilts the boy's head to the side to survey his neck, finding nothing there either.

Marc, who awkwardly wrings out his hands, gazes over the sight of the blissfully unconscious boy then casts a sideways glance to Rafinha. "Is there anything I can do?"

But when lips part to speak, he's beat to the punch, the agitated Brazilian speaking up instead. "Yeah, you can. You can return to whatever hole you came from."

"Are we just going to ignore Sergi and the bigger picture here or?" scoffs Rafinha, burying his face in his hands in exasperation, releasing an outstretched groan: "like what the hell we're gonna do about this?"

  
  


the trio glance from one to the other, silence consuming the entirety of the room, pondering just what could be done about this situation they had been so violently thrusted into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes ? no ? maybe so ? 
> 
> lemme know if you liked it or not, yes ? xx
> 
> i love and miss you guys, and i also thank you in advance for any comments or critiques ;)


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